RMers with kids

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Rangi Guy]

So my 18 year old step-son was having a conversation with his mum and she asked what his plans are for next year. He's currently taking a gap year and working at a supermarket in the city. He told her that he's going to be an infuencer.....and something, something about being an entrepreneur


Where did we go so wrong?

Literally 1/3 my male freshmen business students

I think there's talk of him going to do Business next year.

I think it’s a pretty standard vision for young men these days. You should see the professional aspirations I get from these guys. Mostly variations on “I’m gonna be rich some day. Not sure how, but I’m gonna be able to ski and surf all year long and own houses in all the major outdoor recreation markets.”

That whole mind-set makes me sad.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Bammer]

Where did we go so wrong?

Well it started on March 22, 2013.

[spike]

Where did we go so wrong?

Well it started on March 22, 2013.

When My Chemical Romance broke up?

[washing machine]

Wild to think it, but my kid's closer to three than two now and he's entering a really fun, playful phase. Insisted on wearing a paper tiger mask all the way to his daycare classroom this morning for no apparent reason. He finds bugs in the backyard and offers them water from his sippy cup. He hops like a frog at random times. Just having the time of his life.

The other day, he was throwing an absolute fit because we let our dog out in the morning, wouldn't come to the table for breakfast until my wife and started playing with his trucks incorrectly, making the wrong sounds, making them drive backwards, etc. He snapped out of his fit and came running to breakfast so fast

[Monkey_Driven]

Wild to think it, but my kid's closer to three than two now and he's entering a really fun, playful phase. Insisted on wearing a paper tiger mask all the way to his daycare classroom this morning for no apparent reason. He finds bugs in the backyard and offers them water from his sippy cup. He hops like a frog at random times. Just having the time of his life.

The other day, he was throwing an absolute fit because we let our dog out in the morning, wouldn't come to the table for breakfast until my wife and started playing with his trucks incorrectly, making the wrong sounds, making them drive backwards, etc. He snapped out of his fit and came running to breakfast so fast

Every stage is fun, but you're entering into some really good times.

[wease]

Wild to think it, but my kid's closer to three than two now and he's entering a really fun, playful phase. Insisted on wearing a paper tiger mask all the way to his daycare classroom this morning for no apparent reason. He finds bugs in the backyard and offers them water from his sippy cup. He hops like a frog at random times. Just having the time of his life.

The other day, he was throwing an absolute fit because we let our dog out in the morning, wouldn't come to the table for breakfast until my wife and started playing with his trucks incorrectly, making the wrong sounds, making them drive backwards, etc. He snapped out of his fit and came running to breakfast so fast

Every stage is fun, but you're entering into some really good times.

3-5 is the best stage.

[spike]

2 has been lots of fun, so can’t wait for 3-5.

[Monkey_Driven]

My oldest turns 5 tomorrow. He's starts Kindergarten this fall and is shooting hoops on a 7.5 foot rim. The cliche is so true about things going too fast.

[washing machine]

My oldest turns 5 tomorrow. He's starts Kindergarten this fall and is shooting hoops on a 7.5 foot rim. The cliche is so true about things going too fast.

When did he start playing catch? Or has that happened yet? I would never force any activity on my child, but I secretly really want to see him catch a ball. Just one of those things

[Monkey_Driven]

My oldest turns 5 tomorrow. He's starts Kindergarten this fall and is shooting hoops on a 7.5 foot rim. The cliche is so true about things going too fast.

When did he start playing catch? Or has that happened yet? I would never force any activity on my child, but I secretly really want to see him catch a ball. Just one of those things

We started rolling balls back and forth at a very young age (around a year). He's an active, athletic kid so he's drawn to activities where he can move. We started playing catch with an actual football or baseball within the past year or so. He wasn't coordinated to catch consistently before then, but could throw fine. I put absolutely no pressure on him when it comes to sports. Both his mother and I are not athletic at all, nor do we want to be those parents that are driving to multiple states a month in pursuit of some junior college athletic scholarship.

Playing catch after work is fantastic. Would recommend to anyone.

[washing machine]

My oldest turns 5 tomorrow. He's starts Kindergarten this fall and is shooting hoops on a 7.5 foot rim. The cliche is so true about things going too fast.

When did he start playing catch? Or has that happened yet? I would never force any activity on my child, but I secretly really want to see him catch a ball. Just one of those things

We started rolling balls back and forth at a very young age (around a year). He's an active, athletic kid so he's drawn to activities where he can move. We started playing catch with an actual football or baseball within the past year or so. He wasn't coordinated to catch consistently before then, but could throw fine. I put absolutely no pressure on him when it comes to sports. Both his mother and I are not athletic at all, nor do we want to be those parents that are driving to multiple states a month in pursuit of some junior college athletic scholarship.

Playing catch after work is fantastic. Would recommend to anyone.

Definitely not about the actual athleticism for me. Wasn't when I did it with my dad and it won't be if I get to regularly throw with my son. It's about the back-and-forth, the connection, time spent doing something in sync, etc. Rolling objects on the floor sounds like a good way to kick it off.

[Rangi Guy]

Our youngest is off at her first day of school today. She turned 5 last Thursday and was supposed to start on Monday, but then her sister got Covid....then she got a cold....She was well enough to go yesterday, but decided to hold off today when her sister had finished isollating so they could go together

[washing machine]

My dude is on day 4 of being flu-positive and he is HATING it. He's getting better in small increments, but he's discovered the "eat shit and die" face this morning and he's scary good at it. I can tell he just wants this to be done. Poor little man.

[Bammer]

Our little league team has now had more rain outs (4) than games played (3). Fuck this.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[dad]

the twins are officially sixth-graders starting this fall. i'm so proud of my dudes.

[Bammer]

Wow and I thought my twins looked different

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.