My living room in Atlanta looked like a crime scene on July 14, 2024. Red frosting dripped from the ceiling fan. My son Leo stood there, three years old and vibrating with enough sugar to power a small city, wearing a red towel pinned to his shirt. I had exactly sixty-two cents left in my…
Twenty-one three-year-olds staring at a papier-mâché donkey is the closest I have ever come to witnessing a peaceful protest right before a riot breaks out. It was April 14, 2024, a typical muggy Saturday in Houston where the humidity makes your hair double in size the second you step onto the patio. I stood there,…
My kitchen looked like a plumbing disaster zone on March 12, 2024. Red and green pipes made of spray-painted cardboard tubes leaned against the radiator while my twins, Leo and Maya, argued over who got to be the “real” Mario. This was supposed to be a low-stress morning. It wasn’t. The Chicago wind was rattling…
My kitchen table currently looks like a glittery butterfly exploded all over the place, and honestly, I am not even mad about it. Between my four-year-old, Leo, trying to eat the decorative moss and my eleven-year-old, Chloe, critiquing my ribbon choices, this weekend has been a whirlwind of organza and paper wings. We are knee-deep…
Nobody tells you that searching for the best banner for winnie the pooh party will lead you down a rabbit hole deeper than the one Pooh got stuck in after eating too much honey. I spent three weeks last spring obsessing over shades of “Hunny” yellow and “Classic” red. My backyard in Travis Heights was…
My daughter Chloe turned eight last June, and she decided a “Royal Garden Tea Party” was the only acceptable way to celebrate in our notoriously windy Denver backyard. I spent three weeks researching the durability of a tea party party banner set because, as a consumer advocate and a dad who hates wasting money, I…
Twenty-two second-graders can smell fear like a shark smells blood, but thirty adults looking for mimosas at a retirement brunch are much more demanding. I have spent the last decade teaching at a public school here in Houston, which means my life is a constant cycle of laminated hall passes and themed classroom parties. Last…
My nephew Leo looked me dead in the eye last month and told me he wanted a Sesame Street theme for his sixteenth birthday. He is six feet tall, has a mustache that looks like a nervous caterpillar, and spends most of his time playing hyper-realistic war simulators on his computer. But here we are…
My backyard in South Austin looked like a Pinterest board threw up pampas grass and eucalyptus last March 15th for my niece Maya’s fifth birthday. It was hot. Like, triple-digit Austin heat that makes your silk dress stick to your lower back while you’re trying to look like a desert goddess. I spent three hours…
The smell of burnt hot dogs and cheap gasoline from the neighbor’s lawnmower filled my Logan Square backyard on April 12, 2025. I stood there, sweat dripping down my neck, staring at a stack of flimsy paper plates that were currently migrating toward the fence thanks to a sudden Chicago gust. My twins, Leo and…
