I’m standing in my kitchen in Atlanta, smelling what can only be described as a tiny chemical fire, because I thought I could make my own fairy birthday candles by dipping toothpicks in colored crayon wax. It was June 14, 2022. My daughter, Maya, was turning three, and I had convinced myself that being a…
Maya’s 8th birthday was a humid Austin Saturday, April 5th, 2024, and I decided we weren’t doing generic party favors. Instead, we spent exactly $72 on a DIY station for the perfect art crown for kids because 8-year-olds have very specific opinions about their royal status. My golden retriever, Cooper, spent most of the afternoon…
My kitchen table in Denver looked like a pixelated crime scene last Tuesday afternoon, covered in jagged scraps of green cardstock and rogue dabs of hot glue that refused to peel off the wood. My son Leo turned ten on April 12, and if you know anything about ten-year-old boys in 2026, you know that…
My classroom floor currently sparkles with the remnants of three different types of brown glitter, a permanent souvenir from the “Great Bear Bash” I threw last Tuesday. Teaching twenty-two second-graders in Houston means I’ve learned to pivot when the AC dies or a kid decides a bear backdrop for adults makes a great climbing wall….
Maya turned eleven last April, and suddenly my “buy a grocery store cake and call it a day” strategy was dead. She wanted a budget barbie party for 11 year old girls that didn’t look like it was meant for a toddler. I am a single dad in Atlanta who barely knows the difference between…
I stood in my driveway in Denver last April, staring at a tangle of pink cardstock and cheap polyester string that was supposed to be a centerpiece. My daughter, Chloe, was turning nine. Most kids that age have moved on to Roblox or gymnastics themes, but Chloe has this ironic, nostalgic streak, and she insisted…
Chicago winters are brutal, but trying to plan a budget space party for 3 year old twins in a cramped Logan Square apartment during a sleet storm is a special kind of madness. I remember standing in the middle of my kitchen on March 14, 2025, surrounded by empty Amazon boxes and silver spray paint,…
My kitchen floor currently feels like a giant glue trap, and there is a suspicious smear of bright blue frosting on the ceiling that I am choosing to ignore for at least another hour. This is the reality of life in suburban Portland when you have a four-year-old named Sam who decided that April 12th…
Twenty-four sets of eyes stared at me last Tuesday, and not one of them cared about the multiplication table. It was 1:45 PM. My classroom smelled like peeled oranges and wet wipes. We were thirty minutes away from the “Adventure Bay Bash,” and I realized I had twenty-four children but only twenty-two paw patrol party…
Sunlight hit the mismatched floral tablecloths at Zilker Park last March, and I felt a weird mix of pride and sheer terror. My three-year-old daughter, Lily, was currently trying to feed a lukewarm piece of crustless PB&J to her stuffed rabbit while fourteen other toddlers shrieked with delight. This was the moment I realized a…
