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Do You Like Pie?
This story originally appeared as a guest post on EduDad. I wrote an edge-of-your-seat introduction to it here, but the short version is that I penned it in 2006 when I was still a middle school English teacher, as part of a collection of true classroom tales I intended to publish and become a kajillionaire. Unfortunately, the project soon fizzled out as I moved on to another kajillion-dollar idea that also failed. However, the story remains, and it offers you, O Loyal Reader, a unique glimpse at my daily pre-Twinfamy shenanigans. Enjoy!
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Do You Like Pie?
In an über-rare moment, my seventh-graders were actually working diligently on an assignment, so after a quick, discreet touchdown dance, I’d sprinted to my computer to capitalize on the situation, starting to finally enter the piles of grading cluttering my desk.
Just as I was getting into a groove, the classroom door opened and a student from one of my other classes meandered up to my desk.
“Do you like pie?” she asked.
My mind still in data-entry mode, I was dumbfounded. “What?” I replied.
“Do you like pie? Like, the dessert?”
“Um, yeah. I do. Why?”
“Want a free pie?”
“Okay…sure…I would like a free pie.” I just had to see where this was going.
Twinty Eleven – A Thank You
I just got the numbers in today and I couldn’t believe it.
I double- and triple-checked them, just to be sure I wasn’t mistaken before taking the news public, but they were, indeed, accurate.
The robots look kind of like this.
As it turns out, according to the year-end statistical report compiled by my fleet of information superhighway patrol robots, 2011 was Twinfamy’s biggest, best, most successful year to date!
And I have you, O Loyal Reader, to thank.
Since its humble beginnings eons ago in May 2011, I have watched this fine publication grow from absolutely nothing to the kajillions of you frequenting the site every day, and I wanted to take this opportunity to offer you all my sincere gratitude.
Many years ago, in a time before the Twins and even before my wife and I began dating, I was a Writer. I never did it professionally, but I did do it passionately, daily, and religiously, and will say that a few times, I came pretty darn close to a paid gig. However, it was only a matter of time before I needed a real career instead of a speculative one, and so as I checked American Dream Boxes and became a teacher, husband, and DVR owner I watched my writing time grind to a screeching halt. Ever since then, I’ve haphazardly logged hours on various unfinished writing projects I still completely believe in but just haven’t had the time to realize.
Then came my children.
Don’t Call Me Mr. Mom
Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless: So are you still being Mr. Mom?
Me: You know, the term “Dad” works just fine.
I feel you, 1980s Michael Keaton.
Sure, I could have just let it go. I could have replied, “Yes, I am still being Mr. Mom.” thus avoiding the awkward pause that ensued. Don’t take it personally, I used to tell myself. It’s just a (tired, lame, unfunny) joke. But this terminology is pinned on me often and I have recently decided I am done with just letting it go.
It’s not that I feel emasculated wrangling the Twins all week. I challenge any “man’s man” who thinks stay-at-home parenting is for sissies to actually try it for one day. (In fact, I imagine it could make for a thoroughly entertaining reality show, with each episode culminating in a grown man sobbing.) It’s definitely not easy, but at the same time it’s also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Many fathers would jump at the opportunity to spend as much time with their children as I do, especially at this age. I blinked when they were eight months old and was suddenly thrown into a DeLorean which promptly accelerated to 88 miles per hour, traversing space and time to today, as I open my eyes and find them eleven months old. Until I can get the Flux Capacitor to flux again, I make an effort each day to take it all in (and document it in HD) because I know how fleeting babyhood is.
