Sweat was dripping down my neck in the humid Houston heat last May as twenty-two fourth graders circled a cardboard Bluey hanging from the oak tree behind our classroom. We had just finished our end-of-year testing, and I promised them a “Heeler-style” celebration if they survived the math section without crying. Naturally, I spent three…
My living room looked like a Yoshi egg exploded. It was April 12, 2024, and I was staring at a pile of soggy cardboard boxes that were supposed to be Bowser’s Castle for my son Leo’s 7th birthday. Living in suburban Portland means you bet on the rain, and I lost. The “castle” I spent…
Springtime in Austin hits differently when you are trying to coordinate eighteen twelve-year-olds who are suddenly “too cool” for traditional birthday themes but still secretly want to hunt for golden eggs. On April 4, 2026, my goddaughter Lily decided she wanted a “Some Bunny is Twelve” bash, which sent me on a frantic hunt through…
Last Saturday, Denver felt more like a wind tunnel than a suburb, yet there I was, balanced on a shaky ladder trying to find the best streamers for carnival party decorations that wouldn’t end up in my neighbor’s yard three blocks away. My daughter, Leo, hit the big double-digits plus one on April 12th. She…
The smell of warm cornmeal and cheap glitter is a permanent resident in my classroom after twenty-one fourth graders spent four hours celebrating Sofia’s double-digit debut on April 12, 2024. Ten is a big deal in Houston. It’s that awkward bridge between “I still love cartoons” and “I’m basically a teenager,” and Sofia’s family wanted…
April 12, 2024, started with a panic attack in the middle of a Target aisle because I realized I had zero clue how to turn a suburban Atlanta backyard into the Wild West. My son, Leo, was turning five, and his only request was to “ride a horse and catch a bad guy.” Being a…
My living room looked like a glitter bomb detonated in a pink marshmallow factory on the afternoon of April 12, 2026. My daughter Maya was turning 11, and she had very specific demands for her “Royal Gala” in our Denver suburb. Being a dad who spends way too much time reading Consumer Product Safety Commission…
The Denver wind on April 12, 2025, didn’t care that my daughter Maya was turning eight and had her heart set on a “High Tea” in the backyard. I stood there, watching my carefully curated mountain of cucumber sandwiches—crusts removed, obviously—threaten to become projectiles because I had underestimated the weight of a standard tea party…
My classroom smells like gym socks and old grapes by Friday afternoon. It is May 14, 2025, in Houston, and the humidity is thick enough to chew. I am currently staring at twenty-two second-graders who are vibrating with end-of-year energy. We are celebrating our “Wings and Wishes” unit. To keep my sanity, I bought a…
Houston humidity is no joke, especially when you are trapped in a classroom with eighteen third-graders who have just realized it is pizza Friday. My student Leo turned eight on April 12th, and despite what the “cool” blogs say about older kids wanting sleek themes, he was dead set on a rescue mission. I have…
