Last June 12th, my middle child, Sophie, turned seven, and I thought—in my infinite, caffeine-deprived wisdom—that a backyard horse derby was a great idea. We live in a quiet-ish pocket of suburban Portland where the neighbors usually just ignore my yard’s rotating collection of inflatable dinosaurs and half-finished DIY projects, but this was different. I…
My kitchen table looked like a primary-colored crime scene last Tuesday night at 11:43 PM. Leo and Maya, my five-year-old twins, were finally asleep, but I was knee-deep in cardstock and a lukewarm cup of Jewel-Osco coffee. I had this vision of everyone—grown-ups included—sporting custom lego party hats for adults that didn’t look like cheap…
My living room smelled like a chaotic mixture of store-bought vanilla frosting and industrial-grade rubber on the morning of April 12, 2024. Leo was turning six, and as a single dad in the suburbs of Atlanta, I had somehow convinced myself that I could pull off a professional-looking barnyard bash for nine energetic kids. I…
Pink tulle currently covers every square inch of my Portland living room floor, and I am fairly certain I inhaled at least three grams of iridescent glitter while prepping for Sophie’s seventh birthday bash. My youngest, Leo, who is four and definitely more interested in dragons than tiaras, just tried to eat a stray rhinestone….
My backyard in Denver looked like a pink tornado hit a porcelain factory last March 12. 18 ten-year-olds descended upon our patio for my daughter Chloe’s birthday, and the wind whipping off the Front Range was nothing compared to the sound of those girls. I am a dad who reads the fine print on toy…
Chloe stood in the kitchen with flour on her nose, screaming “We don’t talk about Bruno” at the top of her lungs while I tried to figure out how to pull off a budget encanto party for 5 year old without selling a kidney. We’ve all been there, right? You want the magic of the…
My kitchen island looked like a glittery blue shipwreck last March 14th. I had exactly three hours before my niece Maya turned seven, and fourteen rowdy kids were about to descend on my Austin backyard for her “Mermaid and Friends” bash. I was knee-deep in iridescent streamers and trying to figure out why I thought…
My classroom floor usually looks like a confetti cannon exploded inside a vat of Elmer’s glue. After twenty-two years teaching third grade in the humid heart of Houston, I have developed a sixth sense for impending spills. When my niece Maya begged for a tropical birthday bash last April, I knew my primary defense strategy…
The humid Houston air hung heavy over my living room last March 14 while I frantically taped primary-colored paper plates to the walls. I was trying to mimic the studs of giant plastic bricks before eighteen nine-year-olds descended upon my sanity like a swarm of very hungry locusts. My nephew Leo wanted a “master builder”…
June 14, 2025, started with a panic that only a Denver dad trying to beat a thunderstorm can truly understand. My daughter Chloe was turning nine, and she had her heart set on a backyard circus. I stood on a shaky ladder in our Wash Park neighborhood, wrestling with a massive carnival birthday banner while…
