Archive | November, 2011

Potty Commiseration

29 Nov

y post from a few months back titled “The Bowels Of Hell” got a lot of attention (well, RELATIVELY alot of attention. Let’s face it, this blog isn’t the most heavily trafficked out there. If the blogosphere was Disneyland, would be that sad little southwestern restaurant hidden between Cinderella’s castle and Adventure-land that nobody ever goes to because it’s totally off the beaten path. But I digress…).

A friend passed along a link to another parent blogger’s post that works so well as a companion to “The Bowels Of Hell” I just had to share it here. From the blog “Parenting, Illustrated With Crappy Pictures” I present to you

“Public Toilets vs. Newly Potty Trained Girls And Boys”

Do you know what this is?

A public toilet? Wrong. It is the enemy.  

It is especially the enemy of newly potty trained boys and girls, who are completely inept and unready to battle it. As are the parents.  

Back in the early days with Crappy Boy, I couldn’t wait for him to no longer use diapers. To be diaper free! 

Diaper free sucks.

Don’t fall for that potty training propaganda. Keep them in diapers as long as possible. 

This is what it was like to take Crappy Boy to a public bathroom when he was very newly potty trained…

So I take him into the women’s bathroom. Because I’m a woman. This means there are no urinals. Just a single toilet like the drawing above.  

The first mistake I make is that I lift the seat. Which reveals this:

And I didn’t really need to see that. 

The problem with boys is that they pee standing up. 

The reason this is a problem is… << To read the full article click here>>

-Dork Dad

Caption this photo

24 Nov

Audience participation on this one:

Examine the commanding posture my son took in this picture and then, in the “comments” section below on this page, please leave your suggestion for the best caption. My favorite will have an honorable mention at this year’s “Dorkies” award ceremony.

Valid only in participating states. No substitutions, exchanges or refunds. Offer expires when the Mayan calendar runs out.


Picture of the decade.

-Dork Dad

Return of the Jedi

23 Nov

n update after my little Jedi’s unfortunate experience from the other day.

Today we found ourselves in the same area of Disneyland when it came time for lunch. Wouldn’t you know, just as we managed to find a table and get the kids all settled down the Star Wars music pipes up and the Jedi Training Academy started up again in full. My boy says to me “Daddy, I want to go watch the Jedi Training Academy”. My wife and I both give each other “the look”.

“Are you sure?” we both asked him at the same time. “Darth Maul is going to be there.”

“Yes, I want to” was his firm reply.

So I put my little Padawan on my shoulders and walked him over to a better viewing position in the audience. I asked him at least three more times if he was sure he wanted to watch the show. “Yes, I want to” he repeated every time. The same script as before. The same actors. The Stormtroopers come out. Darth Vader comes out. Then Darth Maul comes out. Darth Maul does his kung-fu (Taras Kasi for all you Star Wars nerds out there) and prowls around the audience with his menacing scowl once again. Wouldn’t you know it. Darth Maul winds up 12 inches away, face-to-face with my son again, just two days after utterly destroying my poor boy with his creepy yellow contact lenses and prosthetic sharp, pointy teeth. He lingered, playing it up to the tender little 3-year-old sitting on top of my shoulders.

From across the crowd my wife and I lock eyes, both of us panic-stricken, convinced we’d just carved the soul out of our son twice in the same week. From atop my shoulders I felt my son’s legs flex, I saw his little fist shake an inch or two in front of the bill of my cap, and I heard his little 3-year-old voice say with every ounce of fire he could muster:


The Sith warrior skulked away and back into the Jedi Training Academy script.

When it was all over my boy said to me, “I did it, Daddy! I did it! I wasn’t afraid of Darth Maul!”

Here’s to my little Jedi, getting back on the horse (or on the Bantha as it were). The Force is strong with you. Pass on what you have learned.

-Dork Dad

Cautionary Tale

21 Nov

uch like Luke Skywalker, my son rushed off to face the Dark Side of The Force before he was ready… and lost.

We’re spending the week in Disneyland. Last year when we were here we were disapointed to learn that Star Tours was closed. The good news was that they were in the process of an upgrade, and the new Star Tours allegedly rocks the socks off the old one (still haven’t been on it yet). Never-the-less, this was the year we were going to have the full-on Star Wars experience at Disneyland. We’ve been talking about “The Star Wars Ride” for months now. It’s definitely on our must-do list.

Face-off with The Dark Side. My son

The other major Star Wars event at Disneyland is the lesser-known (though not to any competent Dorkdaddy out there) Jedi Training Academy. At the Tomorrowland Terrace Disneyland Cast members come out in full Jedi Master garb and pick a lucky bunch of kids out of the audience to “train” as young Jedi. They get to wear Jedi robes and get to practice saber moves with “training lightsabers”. At the end of the event Darth Vader and a couple of Storm Troopers (as well as another Dark Lord of the Sith who most definitely was NOT there when I vetted the show last year) come out and the young Jedi get a chance to practice some of their new-found saber skills against some real bad guys. Naturally I decided this was something my kids MUST do… for THEM, not for me.

In any case, the age range for participants was 4-12. Was I going to let that stop us? No way. After a little coaching, if anyone asked my son how old he was he would say with confidence “Four!” and put three fingers up as proof. *sigh* Close enough. (Nevermind that he’s actually three. Keep your comments about my turning him to the dark side to yourself) As it turned out, my daughter wasn’t interested, so she didn’t sit down in the crowd from which the young Jedi are picked. When it came time there were probably 100 kids in the pool, for maybe 25 spots. My boy didn’t get picked. But that was all right. I prepared him for that possibility. We had my iPhone lightsaber app. (seriously the coolest app ever made) which seriously trumped those “practice lightsabers” the chosen kids got, and we had front seats for the show.

We watched the show from the crowd, and practiced the Jedi lightsaber moves with the iPhone from where we sat just in front of the stage. Then it happened. “Darth Vader’s Theme” played, and the bad guys made their enterance. Two stormtroopers for comic releaf, and then the real threat — Darth Vader himself and Darth Maul (from Episode 1 – The Phantom Menace). Darth Vader stands up onstage with smoke behind him looking all menacing, and Darth Maul comes out with all sorts of fancy swordplay and martial arts. If you don’t know him, Darth Maul’s one serious dude. He’s supposed to be something right out of your nightmares (that’s what George Lucas told the designers when they were coming up with Darth Maul’s “look” in pre-production).

So Darth Maul comes out flipping, kicking, whooshing his lightsaber around, and looking all scary. As he’s doing his thing, snarling at the audience, he just happens to get about six inches in front of my 3-year-old-son’s face in full scary-snarl mode.


Have I mentioned the fact that my 3-year-old son has never even seen the character Darth Maul before?

Needless to say that was more than my boy could handle. My young Jedi, who just moments before was in full-on brave Jedi mode, was terrified beyond all reason. Right there he curled up in my arms, crying as hard as I’ve ever heard him cry, saying “I’m scared, Daddy! I’m scared!”

To all you prospective Jedi out there, Yoda was right. Don’t rush out to face the Dark Side if you aren’t fully trained. To all you Dorkdaddy’s out there, don’t let your own ambitions push you to push your kids farther than they’re ready to go.

Please spell my name correctly when you nominate me for “Father of the Year”. My official candidacy picture is the one of my 3-year-old son with swollen, red eyes after 15 minutes of inconsolable crying out of sheer terror. He has his Dorkdad to thank for that one… and for the inevitable nightmares that we’ll be dealing with for the forseeable future.

-Darth Dork Dad

UPDATE: For an account of the rematch between Darth Maul and my son just two days later, check out this link.

Pilgrims In A Holy Land

18 Nov

ome with me my son, and I will show you to the promised land. Though you are not yet a man, you are old enough to see. You are old enough to know the wonders, to see the 1080p / 240hz / HDTV splendors that can only be found in the Valhalla of big-box stores. Yes son, it is time. You have come of age. Today is your rite of passage. I have decided that today, between our trip to the drycleaner and carwash, you shall finally cast your gaze upon the wonderment of the male world. Your eyes will be open. Your heart will weep as you are cast in the Technicolor, high-definition glow of a million million microscopic LED’s on the wall of flat-screens and your soul will be baptized in an ocean of 5.1 channel Bose-lifestyle surround-sound. Son, today is the day I bring you home. Today is your first trip to Best Buy.

Worship at the altar.


As Gandalf said:

“Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it… White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

…and beyond THAT lies a plush leather reclining armchair with drink holders in the arm rests, facing an entire wall of high-definition flat-screens, in every size you can imagine. It truly is wondrous. This is but a glimpse of the life that is promised to us, for although I do not wish you to grow up any faster than you are, I have sworn an oath that when you grow up and go away to college I will re-outfit your bedroom with the self-same flats-screen, reclining leather armchairs and 5.1 channel surround sound.

Observe - Man in his natural habitat

But that isn’t all. Oh no. For the truly righteous there is an entire western wing dedicated to computers of every kind… dual core processors… QUAD core processors — all yours for the oogling. And if you are lucky a young person in a royal blue polo shirt only partially tucked into unkempt khaki pants, though thoroughly underqualified to accurately answer your questions, will pretend to be all knowing and guide you to a purchase which may or may not meet your needs.

The only thing that could make this better is a lollipop.

This area here is the personal gaming console section. Sample the sweet nectar of the latest generation of “Rock Band” or the hyper-realistic violence of “Call of Duty – Modern Warfare 3”. Go ahead, touch them. No matter that the sample drum pads are broken, or that the game controller isn’t communicating with the console. Sample the forbidden fruit. This, son, is a test of your will. You must know that at your tender age we can never bring this bounty home, for your mother would surely smite us down (or smite ME down at any rate).

Who are those people over there in the black pants and white collared shirts? Ah, they are pretenders; false prophets of dorkness. They call themselves the “Geek Squad” and although we do not begrudge anyone making a living, they sell their powers of dorkness for profit. We, my child, believe in using our dork-powers for good and spreading them across the world for all to share. Someday if you reach the upper echelons of dorkness you too may have a blog of your own to lay your dorkness bare for the entire world to see. (Don’t worry. The only people who will read it are close friends and family, who already know how dorky you are.)

And now the toughest lesson of all, my son. We must leave – without buying a thing. That’s right. We must EARN the rewards we see before us. It takes a lifetime of sacrifice and discipline. Some fall away from the path of righteousness. But we, you and I, WE will stay pure. We will always remember that there is a higher plane of existence. Though we may never reach perfection, the value is in the pursuit, the constant self-reflection that guides us away from what truly matters not, and towards the unattainable goal of ultimate satisfaction.

As I move through this life, this mortal plane, most recently as I move through it with you under my wing, I find that those things which I once coveted, the 70” Sony flat-screen, the Porsche 911 Cabriolet and their ilk, lose their grip on my soul. In their place grows the love of walking through this hallowed ground with you beside me and seeing the dream spark in your eye. What you don’t know now, what you can’t yet know, is that the dream changes. You see, it turns out that the items in the store are not the window to salvation. In fact it is the trips here with you, the time spent looking at these wonders of mortal man. It is holding your hand in mine and sharing the dream of how fun it would be to have these things. In fact, it is in sharing ALL your dreams. You my son, and the time I spend with you, are my dream realized. Should I live to 100 years, or die tomorrow, I know I have reached perfection. When I am with you I know I have finally found heaven.

-Dork Dad


16 Nov

ll right. Enough with the “sympathy-weight” already. After this baby is born and my wife starts breastfeeding, I’m looking forward to the “sympathy-weightloss”.




-Dork Dad

Goodness isn’t a game.

14 Nov

his one isn’t mine, but it says everything I’ve ever wanted to say with my own blog. After reading it I joked that “now I can shut down”. My mother’s howls of protest insured that isn’t going to happen. Please read this article. It’s important to me, to our kids, and to our world.






Tom Matlack laments that more men interest themselves in reviews of computer games than accounts of goodness. He also laments that he’s aggravating the problem.

I’ve founded two online companies aimed at boys and men. One I only think about on Monday afternoons when I get a weekly revenue report. The other I obsess about day and night. One is about a product I have never played and barely understand. The other makes me cry tears of pain or joy on a regular basis… (click this link to read the full article)

(BTW Tom, you lament that only gets 2 million hits a month. I’m lucky if I get 1,000)

-Dork Dad

Baby’s Got Bump!

12 Nov

was there in 1992 when Sir Mix-a-Lot came on the scene, and although I have very dear cheezy early 90’s memories associated with his song, it is fair to say I am not in his camp. I am not one of those people who thinks Kim Kardashian’s “assets” are worth talking about. In all honesty my bizarre inclinations are for necks and ankles. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know the answer. But that isn’t really what this post is about. If you want to know what really puts steam in a man’s stride, if you want to know what taps the primitive monkey-brain at its most instinctive level, if you want to know what triggers those subconscious hormones that make smart guys stupid (and make stupid guys more stupider), I’m here to tell you that there is nothing in the world sexier than a woman who confidently and comfortably wears her pregnancy well. You can keep your J-Lo junk in the trunk, or your Fergie lovely lady lumps. I’ve got ridiculously gorgeous woman walking around the house these days with an ever-growing baby-bump, and I feel like a teenager watching Olympic girl’s beach volleyball. RRRAWRR!!

My smokin'-hot wife the day before our first was born.

The amazing thing to me is that you women don’t see it – at all. Countless sociologists have pointed out that when you ladies get ready to go out for the evening you really aren’t dressing for the men, you’re dressing for the other ladies. You girls are BRUTAL in how you judge each other. Even if you don’t say it out loud, you’re always sizing up the girl next to you, the way she looks in her jeans, does that top fit right, are those extensions or not, oh my gosh she’s got a tramp stamp at HER age… Then you turn that middle-ages, inquisition, death-squad, judge-panel on yourself. You never hear guys asking their wives if those jeans make their butts look big. We know we’ve got a lot more pudding around the middle. The difference is, when we go out, we know all the other guys we see that night aren’t secretly passing judgment on our beer-bellies or worse, talking about it in clipped and hushed tones with the other guys they’re hanging out with that night. As the character Amy Farrah Fowler on “Big Bang Theory” recently said, “Women have a deep, hormonally-driven need to spend a lot of time looking at thick glossy magazines that make us hate our own bodies”.

My smokin'-hot wife the day before our 2nd was born.

My wife is a beautiful woman with a decent self-esteem. She knows she isn’t ugly (boy is THAT the understatement of the century). She’s a rational woman who knows what superficiality is and how worthless those sorts of things are. She has a healthy perspective on what real beauty is. But she was raised in the superficiality capitol of the world (southern California), and the instinct runs very deep. She agonizes about her baby bump. It’s not that she’s trying to hide it. She’s proud of it. But whenever we’re heading out to go somewhere, or when she needs to get a new sweater or shirt or something, the #1 thing on her mind is how it makes her belly look. She’s constantly scorning the “oh-so sexy panel” on her maternity jeans. She looks in the mirror and says “I feel big”. Where she normally goes through three wardrobe changes before going out, now she goes through four or five to accommodate her changing figure. Don’t get me wrong, she loves being pregnant, and I must say she wears her pregnancy VERY well. She’s good at it (not “Duggar” good, but you get what I’m saying). She’s an educated, rational, healthy pregnant woman… and she still worries about how the pregnancy makes her look. (Let’s not point out the fact that she’s six months pregnant and her belly is still smaller than mine).

Check out the video below I made of my daughter the day before her little brother was born. At 0:23 you see my wife walk through the background in all her pregnant glory. She doesn’t glow. She RADIATES.

In those moments when she isn’t so worried, when she’s brushing her teeth at night in front of the mirror, after she wakes up in the morning and her tank top is rolled up just above her belly button, when she picks up one of the kids and the panel on her jeans is exposed for the whole world to see, I am like a kid in a candy store. She is so beautiful she makes me feel like one of the dufus science dorks in “Weird Science” when Kelly LeBrock first emerges from out of the bedroom closet. My tongue gets thick, my palms get sweaty, and my intellectual level goes from “Citizen Kane” to “American Pie” in nothing flat. There’s just something about that little guppy belly. It’s amazing. It’s miraculous.

All three of my kids in the same picture. My smokin'-hot wife 6 months pregnant.

Women of the world, I’m here to tell you: it doesn’t take a single molecule of makeup. It doesn’t take ridiculously expensive bottles of hair “product”. It doesn’t take designer jeans or the “right” hair. If you’ve got a baby-bump and you wear it well, with confidence and with pride, there is absolutely nothing in this entire universe sexier.

-Dork Dad

Comics Aren’t For Kids Anymore

6 Nov

wouldn’t LET my young child read a new comic book off the shelf these days. That’s right. I said it. Moreover, I can’t imagine how any responsible parent could. How then do you foster a love of superheroes (and comic books) if you can’t responsibly let your young child read comic books? Read on and I’ll explain the “why” and the “how”.

So the idea here is to raise well-adjusted kids while passing along a love of all things “geek”. In my world a big part of that means comic books and superheroes. I’ve mentioned before how I’m getting my son’s comic book collection started early. After all, put all the movies, cartoons, T-shirts and action figures aside, superheroes are about comic books. Comic books are the lifeblood of the superhero culture. They are the way the culture perpetuates itself. They are the way the characters develop over time. They are they medium through which they travel from decade to decade, generation to generation. I love passing on the superhero culture, but the centerpiece to every superhero fan’s enjoyment must be the comic books themselves. Everything else branches out from that central hub. I love sharing superhero culture with my kids, and I looked forward to making the actual, real comic books the biggest part of that shared experience. But in recent years the landscape has changed – drastically; so much so that as a responsible parent I have recently had to come to terms with the fact that I may never be able to share the comic book culture with my young kids. Because the fact of the matter is: comic books aren’t for kids any more.

Times change, and therefore so must our heroes and the dramas they engage in change as well. Business models have to change too, and since the advent of the NES, and then later the internet, the comic book market has been in steady decline. Over time comic book producers have had to fight harder and harder for the attention (and $) of their target audience. Bit by bit, month by month, the stories and artwork have become more and more edgy, moving frame by frame away from the innocent, campy, good vs. evil stories of MY youth, to more and more violent, sexually charged, adult-themed stories that cater to a more mature audience. You can’t fault the companies for fighting for their survival, and if this is what they have to do to stay in business, then it’s what they have to do. But the fallout is that they have moved away from a younger audience, and more towards the 20 and 30-something audience, who is better equipped to handle adult subject matter (not to mention $4.00 comic books).

Recently there was a big to do about DC (the producers of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.) launching “The New 52”. They essentially decided to re-boot 52 titles from absolute scratch, including the tent-pole characters (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.) Superman is now much more hardcore, Batman has a new Robin (his illegitimate son), Aquaman is actually cool… This in and of itself is no strange thing for comic book fans. It happens about once a decade. But the way it happened this time was a game changer.

Yes, I know Superman's missing his red underwear. Don't get me started.

I eagerly purchased the new issue #1 of my favorite titles, four of them in all: Batman, Detective Comics, Superman and Action Comics – and when I opened them to see what was new I was SHOCKED at what I found inside. I couldn’t believe it. There is no way I could even imagine my children reading these “comics” until their late teens. The Batman books graphically illustrated either a gun to someone’s head, blowing his brains out, or a psychopath cutting pieces of his victim’s face off. The Superman issues had citizens spewing visceral hate-speech at the “illegal alien” Superman, the depth of which is totally inappropriate in civilized society (let alone in California). The Wonder Woman comic was transformed into practically a horror comic (a horse is beheaded in the first issue… yes, they drew it in all its gory detail).

Superman in a T-shirt. Um... OK. Whatever.

And Starfire… more on Starfire later. It didn’t take long for the entire comic book community to be buzzing about the same thing. Gratuitous violence everywhere, female characters in sexually compromised situations. In one week the entire DC Universe moved from PG-13 to pushing the boundaries of R. And these were the tent-pole titles, Batman and Superman. Where these titles go, the rest of the industry follows. Their marketing strategy is clear. They’re going for shock-value. They’re trying to get the Halo-3, internet generation talking online and sharing these story elements virally over Facebook and Twitter. Who knows if the strategy will work, but one thing is for sure: young kids are out of the equation. DC’s counting on grabbing them once they get wrapped up in their Xbox360’s playing “Grand Theft Auto 7” with their older brothers.

So what then is a Dorkdad to do? I can’t give up on superheroes. I won’t. Fear not fellow Dorkdaddies. There are options out there, and I’m happy to pass on what I’ve managed to piece together.

From a much more innocent time.

Of course there’s always the old “Superfriends” standby from the 70’s and 80’s. They’re all easily available on DVD and you’d be amazed at how vanilla they are. There are no guns. There’s no fighting. They’re totally namby-pamby, and totally kid-safe. They’re also totally over. No new episodes and no new issues to look forward to every week. They’re nice to put in your glove box to put on the minivan DVD player during long trips, but you won’t get much utility beyond that. If you’re looking for newer material, I’m happy to report that there is still good reason to go into the comic book shop every month.

Both comic book and TV series on Cartoon Network.

Although you may need to go to the dark secluded corner of the comic shop to find them, DC publishes two comic book titles designed for children that also segue nicely with animated programs you can find (and TiVo) on Cartoon network. The first is “Batman: The Brave And The Bold”. This title is in full-merchandizing mode. There are T-shirts all over Target and action figures all over Toys R Us. “Brave And The Bold” is a title that revolves around Batman, but introduces all of the tier-2 superheroes (Blue Beetle, Zatana, Plastic Man) here and there in his adventures. The cartoon however, is quite ingeniously engineered to appeal to both child AND parent. If the name “Linda Carter” means anything to you, take a look at this clip of the show and listen to the music that plays when a certain star-spangled heroine comes to the rescue of the caped-crusader:



It must be said that there are guns, and plenty of fist/foot to face fighting in this series. If your young one is too young for that sort of thing, best to wait a bit.

Along those same lines, Cartoon Network also airs “Teen Titans”, which for my money is the best kid-friendly superhero stuff out there. It features a group of teenage superheroes, with Robin as their leader, and introduces a healthy number of other lesser-known DC characters here and there as well. Artistically, it also makes liberal use of Japanese anime stylings that kids seem to respond well to these days. It’s also worth noting that although there is a measure of fighting in this series (these ARE superheroes after all, fighting bad guys), the producers do an EXCELLENT job of disguising it. You never, ever see a fist touch a face, or a boot hit a body. Fighting may happen in the story, but the producers seem to know the audience here is younger, and they keep things appropriate. Oh, and there are absolutely no guns (or at least guns that you would recognize as real-world-ish).

"Teen Titans". It's kindof my new favorite cartoon... Mostly 'cause my daughter can't get enough of it.

To give you an idea about how far afield DC has taken things, I’ll note that my daughter’s favorite character in “Teen Titans” is Starfire (the red-headed character floating overhead in the picture to the right). Starfire’s charm has always been her cultural naiveté since she comes from another planet. On the show her role is to be the emotional gooey-center of the group. She’s the one who’s worried about everyone else’s feelings, and drives home the message of friendship.  Starfire was part of DC’s New-52 project as well, and was re-imagined and re-booted along with all the other major DC characters. If my 5-year-old daughter went to a comic book shop to find a comic book featuring her favorite DC superheroine, she would find this:

Two words: HELL. NO.

Two words:    HELL. NO.

I don’t need my kids seeing that. Heck, I don’t even need to see that.

For my 5-year-old, and my 3-year-old... that's much more like it.

Thankfully though, Starfire also makes regular appearances in the other kid-friendly comic book DC publishes monthly. “Tiny Titans” may not look like your typical rippling-muscles in spandex comic book title, but it turns out it’s great at introducing really young kids to the superhero universe. It seems to resonate particularly well with girls… and with kids who are just starting to read. If you’ve got a kindergartener you’d like to get excited about superheroes (like I do), see if your local comic book shop will set aside a copy of “Tiny Titans” for you every month.

It should also be noted that Cartoon Network also airs a show produced by Marvel (Spiderman, X-men, Iron Man, Captain America, Hulk, etc) called “Super Hero Squad”. This too is geared for a younger audience, and is produced in conjunction with a relatively robust online video game, also geared for younger children. I beta testd the video game and though it was a fantastic entry to online video gaming for a 7 or 8-year-old. I must admit though that I haven’t vetted the television program, and therefore won’t be making any judgments on this blog post.

If my kids were a little older we'd be all over this online video game.

If the world of printed comic books continues along its current adult trajectory, I can’t imagine a scenario where my kids will start routinely collecting the main title books on their own when they’re 10 or 11 years old like I did. Times change, and just like with Saturday morning cartoons I may have to mourn that loss as I raise my kids. But while they’re young I can still share in the joy and culture of visiting the comic shop every month by seeking out the kid-friendly titles. Supplement that with some strategically DVR’d episodes of “Teen Titans” and “Batman: Brave And The Bold” and I can be confident that they are getting the Surgeon General’s recommended daily dose of vitamin superhero in their critical years. I’ll keep collecting the “adult” titles and setting them aside until the day comes that they are able to handle the material, and from now to then we can always have fun hunting down back-issues from a comic-book era that I’m afraid is, sadly, gone forever.

-Dork Dad

The Wisdom of Albert

6 Nov

mportant enough to merrit its own blog post. This is how I approached every day I spent in front of the classroom, and every day I spend as a parent.

Anyone who plays any part in raising a child, parents - teachers - coaches - administrators, needs to hold this sacred and right up next to their heart.

-Dork Dad

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