Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on car reviews, parenting

2013 Toyota Avalon Hybrid Review, From The Dad’s Perspective

December 25, 2013 at 11:12 pm , by 

3 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

Okay, so I think by now, it’sdefinitely safe to say that I can add “Online Car Reviewer” to my resume on LinkedIn.

Last week Toyota sent us our 4th car to review: A 2013 Avalon Hybrid.

For me, this was pretty epic. If anybody is a huge fan of the electric car, it’s me!

I suppose Toyota has pretty much made it obvious they they have cornered the market of electric cars in America.

Of course, I naturally think of their Prius. So I was really surprised to learn that Toyota also makes hybrid electric/gas Avalons as well.

We tested out the Avalon for its stowing abilities last Thursday when we took your teachers their Christmas gifts. I wanted to get a picture of you next their bag of gifts, but you weren’t interested… not until I popped open the trunk.

You wanted inside, with the gifts. I guess that officially marks the first time you’ve been in the trunk of a car.

Monumental moment… let’s savor it for a minute.

[Dramatic pause.]

Before going inside your school to deliver the gifts, you wanted to go find a brown leaf to put in your cubby.

You found the best one!

I’m thinking that was your attempt at helping me write my review of the Avalon Hybrid.

Yeah, I see where you were going with it…

Leaves are easily associated with “going green.” It’s just that I’m not too sure how a brown leaf plays into that.

Maybe brown is the official color of hybrid cars? Somehow?

Not sure I fully understand your genius idea yet, but if it ends up being a hit with the marketing department at Toyota, don’t worry, I’ll make sure they give you all the credit for it, Son.

In closing, I really liked the Avalon! It was totally up my alley.

Our family drove it for an entire week, plus we took a 2 and a half hour trek to spend Christmas with my side of the family.

As you can see from this picture, we drove 345 miles on it, with still 157 miles before it would have ran out of gas.

How cool is that? The Avalon hybrid can go about 500 miles before needing to go to a gas station.

Yet, it was like driving a “normal” car… except the fact the first time I tried to start it up, it took me four tries before I realized it was already started- that’s how quiet the thing is.

With it being a hybrid, it apparently knows when it’s better to kick back and forth to “gas” or “electric” mode, accordingly; because each time I stopped at a red light, you always responded the same way:

“Daddy, I hear an owl. I think he has a whistle. Is he flying over us? Where is he? Where’s the owl?”

You were hearing the transition into electric mode. And that transition translates into dollar signs being saved…

I’ll put it this way: The 2013 Toyota Avalon Hybrid gets 40 miles per gallon in the city and 39 on the highway. Basically the same! Annual fuel coast is only about $1350.

So… up to this point, I think this is not only my favorite car I’ve reviewed yet, but Mommy’s too. I’ve got a little more to say about it, but I’ll save it for my next letter to you, about us going to the recycling center.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Disclaimer: The vehicle mentioned in this story was provided at the expense of Toyota, for the purpose of reviewing.

 

P.S. Here’s a collection of my Toyota reviews so far; just click on title to read the full story:

2013 Rav4

2013 Toyota Rav4 Review, From The Dad’s Perspective

2014 Tundra

Dad Gives 3 Year-Old Son A Monster Truck For Birthday… Sort Of

Nashville Dad Introduces 3 Year-Old Son To Country Music

3rd Birthday Monster Truck Road Trip: Build-A-Bear

3rd Birthday Monster Truck Road Trip: Little River Falls, AL

3rd Birthday Monster Truck Road Trip: Mountain Driving

3rd Birthday Monster Truck Road Trip: Canyon Land Park

3rd Birthday Monster Truck Road Trip: Canyon Mouth Park

2013 Sienna

We’re Ready For A Family Road Trip… Minivan Style!

It’s Officially Cool To Drive A Minivan Now

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

It’s Easier To Fall Asleep When Mommy Drives Away

December 22, 2013 at 10:25 pm , by 

3 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

Here’s the dilemma:

I’m quicker and more efficient at getting you to bed for both naps and bedtime.

Mommy is quicker and more efficient at doing the dishes after meals.

However, Mommy depends on that quality time with you of putting you to bed… so I do the dishes while she puts you to bed.

And that’s no problem. I’m cool with whatever, asking myself the question, “What would Jack Jackson do?“

He would do the dishes. So I do, too.

But here lately, you have really… what’s another way of saying “taken advantage of the situation”?

You’ve really capitalized on the fact that you know Mommy will come back to comfort you if you call her after she leaves your bedroom.

Of course, you don’t do that with me if I happen to be putting you to bed. You just go to sleep because I make things less interesting, and comforting, I suppose.

So this weekend, Mommy and I tried an experiment.

For your noontime naps, Mommy went through the typical routine for bedtime for you, while I did the dishes from the recent meal, but then she called me upstairs right as it was time for her to leave the room and for you to start falling asleep.

Then, Mommy had to go to get gas for her car. (Or drive to the next neighborhood while I closed the deal with you.)

The most important part of this plan working was that you actually saw Mommy literally drive away. All I did after that was sing you a quick version of the theme song from The Lorax, and you were in Dreamland by the time I could walk downstairs.

With there being no hope of her coming back to your room to comfort you anytime soon, you gave up trying to delay falling asleep.

That’s when I texted Mommy to come back, just a few minutes after she drove away; that the coast was clear.

Hey man… it works

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting, Storytelling

It’s All About Being A Big Boy, These Days

December 21, 2013 at 8:47 pm , by 

3 years, 1 months.

Dear Jack,

I’m officially aware now that if Mommy or I add the phrase “big boy” in front of just about anything, you’ll be interested in it. It’s similar to the way I’ve distanced myself from using the word “toddler” to reference you anymore, especially since you turned 3 last month.

In other words, you are doing away with all that baby stuff, because this is like your bar mitzvah of Big Boyhood.

For example, I’ve noticed that in recent photo collages I’ve been making, I typically include a shot of the men’s restroom sign, to signify that you went potty there… and didn’t get your “big boy underwear” wet.

It’s like my way of documenting The Great Potty Tour of 2013/2014.

I was thinking about this the whole time you were at the dentist, when I took you earlier this week. I was so impressed by the way you just went with the flow, despite it being potentially intimidating to a 3 year-old.

Granted, the huge fish tank, the multiple horsie rides, and the arcade room surely helped distract you in a good way.

It was very rewarding for me as a parent to sit back and watch you at the dentist, seeing that you clearly wanted to show me how brave you are.

When I was your age, I was more afraid of new things. But you, you’re different.

You have a level of self-confidence I don’t remember having until after I survived 6th grade. In other words, I was probably about 13 before I had the chutzpah you already have.

So basically, you’re ahead of me by about 10 years.

Ideally, in theory, you could be where I am now, maturity-wise, by the time you’re 22; I’m 32 now.

That’s my goal for you, in a way. I’m doing my best to raise you to have more maturity, life skills, knowledge, charisma, and humility than I had at whatever age you are now.

So far, it’s working…

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on funny, parenting

The Rules Of A Game Sometimes Change With A 3 Year-Old

December 19, 2013 at 10:35 pm , by 

3 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

Last month for your birthday, one of the gifts Mommy and I got for you wasDinosaur Train: Make A Match.

It’s the classic memory matching card game, but with a few twists… like the “Take Buddy” card.

The game comes with a little plastic action figure of Buddy, one of the characters from the TV show.

Whoever has Buddy at the end of the game gets a lot of extra bonus points, which in itself could lead to winning the game.

Of course, you don’t care about the points. For you, winning the game means not losing Buddy.

As Mommy and I learned, the game actually ends the moment that she or I draw the “Take Buddy” card and try to, as the card implies, take Buddy from you.

The youngest player starts with Buddy, so if we actually played by the rules, it would mean about 90 seconds into each game, the game would end… because you would get Buddy taken away from you.

So, our rules for the game mean that no matter what, Buddy is yours for the entire game. It’s just about matching the cards, and sometimes, you even use the kitchen tongs to pick up the cards and place them in your Tonka dump truck.

There will come a day when the rules will actually matter when we play family board games. But for now, just as there is no crying in baseball, there is no crying in Dinosaur Train: Make A Match.

And the reason there is no crying in this game is because we don’t play by the rules.

I think it’s safe to say we need to very slowly (!) work our way up to other classics such as Monopoly, which is all about taking away from the other players until they gradually wither away to nothing.

Yeah, we’ve still got a few years before we try that one out as a family.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on marriage, parenting, Spirituality, Storytelling

Raising My Son To See Females As Somebody’s Daughters, Not Objects

December 18, 2013 at 11:18 pm , by 

3 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

It’s no secret that I am perhaps the most… peculiar person at my office.

No, not just because I’m the token vegan, or the guy that refuses to use microwaves, or because I go mountain biking during my lunch break.

I’m also the guy that likes to unleash subliminal social experiments among my coworkers.

Last Friday, the new monthly coupon advertisements were delivered to the break room, featuring discounts for local businesses.

One of them is for a lodge-themed restaurant featuring scantily clad young women as the waitresses, who on the ad, all looked so happy to be wearing so little flannel. (Not to mention, the name of the restaurant is a play on words that is definitely not discreet about what part of the female body it is alluding to.)

I remember about a year ago, when word came out that the fairly new “breastaurant” chain was moving to the very Republican part of Nashville my office is located. There were people evidently trying to boycott that from happening.

As for me, the token Libertarian of the office, my stance was that if the free market financially supports a corny, degrading-to-women restaurant like that, then let it be.

Turns out, there are enough customers willing to support the place to keep it alive and well, because, afterall… “The food is really good there!” I am told.

Here’s where I’m going with this story: I am raising you to see women as… women. Not objects. I’m raising you to see them as somebody’s daughters.

Just to subliminally reinforce this concept to my coworkers, I printed out in size 10 font, the phrase “A.K.A. Somebody’s Daughters,” then cut it out and taped it underneath the restaurant’s logo and the picture of the uniformed models used for the ad.

When word finally got around this week who was behind the prank, because after all, everyone in the office saw those coupons laying there on the table all week, some were surprised it was me: A happily married 32 year-old man with a 3 year-old son.

I responded by saying, “What- did you assume it was an ultraconversative feminist?” (Whatever that means.)

Nope, it was a guy, who is raising his son to treat women with respect. I want to raise you as one less willing customer for a restaurant like that… no matter how good the “food” is.

On second thought, maybe I really am an ultraconservative feminist… if male Libertarians are allowed to be them?

Love,

Daddy

P.S. This is one of those letters that is to be reserved for when you’re older. But while I’ve got it on my mind, I wanted to give you this “life advice” today and I’ll just bookmark it for when the time is right for you to hear it. In the mean time, enjoy the simple life of being a 3 year-old, please!