Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

When I Was Your Age, It Was The Early 80′s

July 1, 2012 at 7:30 am , by 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

Extreme Makeover: The Dadabase Edition

June 29, 2012 at 11:49 pm , by 

19 months.

If you’re reading this, then I assume you’re aware of The Dadabase‘s new facelift. That’s right. I’ve “had some work done.”

You’ve probably noticed the new logo, the quicker load time of the web page, the easier-to-read font, and sleeker overall look. But that’s just the surface of the updatedDadabase.

Because more importantly, navigation is easier than ever now; so is your ability to share aDadabase article if you feel so inclined.

Or maybe you just want to subscribe to this blog and be instantly notified whenever I publish a new post.

Well, Christmas/Hanukah has come early this year. Because you can do all those things. Let me steer you through it.

Look at the top of this (and every) actual blog post. You see an option to instantly “like” it on Facebook, publicly recommend it on Google, share it on Facebook, Tweet it, or even directly email it with ease. Try it out right now if you wish.

Now look to the right side of the screen. It says “Search This Blog.” Was there a time a while back when you remember me writing about circumcision or Cheers or Smurfs and want to revisit that exact post?

Now you can. Type in any random word you can think of, and there’s a good chance I’ve written about it in my now 400+ Dadabasearticles.

Try me. See if I haven’t mentioned the Dharma Initiative or gay marriage yet. I dare you.

There’s an option to pull up my articles from a certain category, too. Feeling nostalgic? There’s a category for that. Deep thoughts? Got ‘em.

Okay, now you’ve probably picked up on the fact that I’m a little bit obsessed with time travel. If you share my same lust for going back in time, I have something to fill that void in your life: An “Archives” option.

You can click the month and year you want; going all the way back to April 2010 whenThe Dadabase was first launched with the announcement of my wife being pregnant.

Keep in mind that since I always tell how old Jack is (or how far along Jill was in her pregnancy) at the top of each article, you can figure out what was going on here at that time.

Right now in June/July 2012, Jack is 19 months. If your kid is 9 months old, do the math. Then click on the right month and year and there you have it.

Maybe I have already been there, done that, and got the Bedazzled sweatshirt. Find out if I am able to enlighten you with my past experiences as a parent.

And if you feel the need to further inflate my ego, there’s conveniently a section called “Follow Nick Shell.”

Go to straight to The Dadabase’s Facebook page. Or Twitter page. Or subscribe to The Dadabase. Or email me directly.

I just realized how easy I’ve made it for  you to stalk me right now. Oops.

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, Storytelling

Why I Like To Scare Kids, Especially My Own

June 27, 2012 at 11:45 pm , by 

19 months.

This past weekend my uncle Al bought Jack a toy Spiderman (hockey?) mask. While it was a bit too big for my son, it was still large enough to fit me.

So needless to say, I became Spiderman. But not the friendly neighborhood Spiderman who we all know and love.

No, instead, I was a creepy, henchman-style Spiderman who liked to slowly sneak up on my son from the other side of the room while he watched me lurk toward him the whole time.

Imagine being a 19 month-old toddler and seeing your dad wearing a Spiderman mask while saying your name through his teeth as he eventually grabs your leg and pretends to eat it.

Just for the record, Jack wasn’t terrified. He won’t need counseling for this. (At least, I don’t think so… yet.)

I could tell it was a thrill for him. He did like it, though he definitely had to remind himself that it wasn’t actually a crossbreed between Jason Voorhees and Spiderman.

Jack has always been a very mellow kid and sometimes I enjoy the challenge of finding new ways to get him to laugh through my idiotic behavior.

In case I’m managing to make myself seem psychologically unstable, allow me to make it worse by elaborating.

It’s not just my own kid I like to scare, it’s all kids.

When I walk into Jack’s daycare, I become “Mr. Teeth” to Jack’s friends. It’s the character who has no lips but who just chatters his teeth and waves.

After a couple of months of meeting Mr. Teeth, some of Jack’s friends have finally started doing it back when I walk in now.

To my one year-old niece, Calla, I am known as Uncle Possum. I make the most hideous face I can, and trust me, it’s unsightly, and I get right in her face to see if I can get a reaction.

What I love is she just stares right back at me as if to say, “You’re no big deal. I’m not afraid of you.”

To toddlers and babies, I am the equivalent to those monsters in the book Where The Wild Things Are. Friendly and harmless, yet still technically a monster.

Kids like to be surprised. So with my mildly scaring them, I help them test their limits and at the same time entertain them in a fresh new way.

So far, I have only made one kid cry because of my antics. And he cried for like 20 minutes… after I left the room and got out of sight.

It was bad.

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

Could Your Parenting Prevent An Antichrist From Existing?

June 27, 2012 at 10:54 pm , by 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My Son Isn’t Cuddly Like The Snuggles Bear

June 27, 2012 at 9:52 pm , by 

19 months.

One of the highlights of my day is always picking up Jack from daycare, because I know he will come running to me with a big smile on his face.

Then, he’ll cuddle up close to me like a koala bear as I hold him and collect his things before taking him out to the car.

With Jack, moments of cuddling like that are rare. It’s safe to proclaim, he’s just not a cuddly kind of kid.

I want to say that I wish he was. But that would be me being selfish.

Because he was designed to be an adventurer and an explorer, so it’s not in his nature to want to let me squeeze him like the Snuggles bear whenever I feel like it; which is actually quite often.

Jack wants to be led into swashbuckling missions. He wants to see the unknown. He wants to ride in the bottom storage part of the shopping cart at Whole Foods Market.

I have to let Jack be Jack, even if that means that at least for right now, I can’t just lay on the couch with him, being close and cuddly. Because that’s what I want.

So I accept that his love language is probably not physical touch.

Instead, I think Jack interprets love through quality time and acts of service.

That typically involves me exerting a lot of energy and burning a bunch of calories and not having much time to just chill out when I’m with him.

It’s not so much that I’m constantly having to entertain him; it’s that I’m constantly needing to engage him. Interestingly, the activities that best express my love to him in a way that he accepts as valid are the ones that most wear him out and cause him to need to take a nap.

Now I can understand even better why roughhousing with my son is so vitally important.

Chasing him like I’m a lion, then gently tossing him on the random air mattress in our living room is the equivalent to snuggling with him. That’s how Jack sees it.

And perhaps my subconscious realization of that naturally makes me want to play rough with him in the first place.

It’s been no secret that Jack and my dad have always had a special bond.

Even when Jack was only a couple of months old, he always appreciated my dad carrying him around the house, showing him the insides of bedrooms and the pictures on the walls.

What is it about that special bond between grandfather and grandson? It’s not just their same first and last name.

I believe it has a whole lot to do with the fact my dad does a perfect love of expressing love to Jack in a way that Jack can best understand it.

Remember the whole water hose incident last weekend?

Prime example. Put Jack and his Papa together, and they’ll figure out something fun to do.

My son isn’t the Snuggles bear.

But I do think he might be Curious George.