Standing in the middle of a craft store aisle at 7:00 AM on a Tuesday, I realized I was significantly out of my depth. I’m a man who can fix a clogged sink or frame a basement wall without breaking a sweat, but looking for unicorn birthday photo props felt like trying to decode an…
I survived the Saturday morning rush at the Dollar Tree on Western Avenue with two eight-year-olds and a mission to find the perfect wild kratts cake topper for under five dollars. It was March 14th, and Chicago was doing that weird “is it spring or is it winter” thing where the slush turns into gray…
My living room in Atlanta looked like a crime scene involving a giant tomato. It was April 12, 2024. Leo was turning five. I had this grand vision of a Mushroom Kingdom skyline, but instead, I was sweating over a $15 hand pump that kept jamming while 40 red balloons mocked me from the floor….
My living room looked like a blizzard hit a confetti factory on the afternoon of April 12, 2025. Shredded iridescent paper clung to the rug, and three forgotten carrots—former snowman noses—sat wilting on the coffee table. Lily had just turned seven, and her eleven friends had finally departed, leaving behind a trail of glitter and…
My kitchen looked like a tropical storm hit it, mostly because I decided that eighteen four-year-olds needed to recreate the entire voyage of the canoes in my living room last Saturday. Lily, my youngest, turned four on April 12, 2024, and she has been obsessed with the ocean since we visited Cannon Beach last summer….
My dining room table currently looks like a miniature version of the Serengeti had a head-on collision with a craft store, and honestly, I am not even mad about it. Last Saturday was Leo’s 4th birthday, and if you know anything about 4-year-olds in suburban Portland, you know they have very strong opinions about exactly…
My kitchen table in Logan Square was a disaster zone last August 15th. Glue sticks, discarded comic book clippings, and half-eaten pizza crusts from Gigio’s covered every square inch of the Formica. I sat there, nursing a cold cup of tea, trying to figure out why on earth I thought making superhero thank you cards…
My kitchen floor in Logan Square was covered in gold glitter and half-eaten cucumber sandwiches on March 14, 2024. It was the morning of Leo and Maya’s second birthday, and the wind off Lake Michigan was rattling the windows like it had a personal grudge. I had exactly fifty-eight dollars in my checking account earmarked…
Houston humidity is the absolute enemy of a classroom celebration, especially when you are staring down twenty-four sixth graders who have just come in from recess and smell like a mix of old gym socks and cheap body spray. I learned three years ago that serving actual scoops of ice cream in a room without…
Twenty-one nine-year-olds in one backyard is a recipe for disaster unless you have a plan. Last month, on March 14, 2026, I hosted a birthday for my nephew Leo, and I quickly realized that a race car party birthday hats set is the only thing keeping these kids from looking like a random mob. I…
