Tagged: Jesus Christ

Ways I Have Attempted to Con My Kids Into Putting Their F*cking Shoes On: A Non-Exhaustive List

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1. Telling them, “Okay, it’s time to go. Kids, please get your shoes on.”

2. Adding, “Kids. Get your shoes on.”

3. Acknowledging that, yes, I KNOW they’re drawing pictures, but like I said, it’s time to go. Like right now.

4. Yes. Right now. This very instant. This moment in time. NOW.

5. Telling them to stop claiming they don’t know how to put their shoes on.

6. Telling them Santa is watching.

7. Reminding them that our Elf on the Shelf is right over there. See?

8. Saying that I’m sure the Easter Bunny is taking notes, too.

9. Telling them, no, Easter is not for a few months, but the important part is getting their f*cking shoes on.

10. Reminding them that Jesus is watching, too. Surely Jesus would get HIS shoes on.

11. Telling them that Big Brother is also watching, and realizing that it is a reference they will not understand, and explaining that, no, they do not have another brother, but that they DO have…to put their f*cking shoes on.

12. Saying I’m leaving without them.

13. Telling them no, no, no, of course I would never leave without them…as long as they put their f*cking shoes on.

14. Asking them to stop crying, I’m seriously not leaving without you. But now that I have your attention, please put your f*cking shoes on.

15. Telling them their shoes are hungry for feet. Look! Their tongues are sticking out! Continue reading

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The Immaculate Perception

“Jesus put the baby in Mommy’s tummy. And Mommy helped, too.” — My Daughter

Buddy Christ

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Ugg

I am very excited, O Loyal Reader.

Ecstatic even.

I’ve never been a much of a dancer, but you can bet in just a few short weeks I will jig the jiggiest jig ever jigged, so jiggy that Will Smith will record a new song called “I Thought I Was Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It, But It Appears John Pseudonymous Has Even Bigger Willie Style.”

Will Smith - Big Willie Style

He could even have Willow Whip Her Hair back and forth in the video if she hasn’t already given herself whiplash.

You see, the reason I intend to throw my hands all up in the air (and possibly even wave them like I just don’t care) is because in a fortnight I will have completed The Semester From H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks. As I’ve explained previously, this is largely due to the two statistics classes I have been This!-Is!-Sparta!-ing.

I realize my work for this fine publication has been spotty, and will admit that as the term draws to a close, I’m very preoccupied with smearing Braveheart-blue warpaint on my face for this final fustercluck of papers, proposals, and stattacks (that’s a word I just created at this very moment that means “the act of attacking statistics problems, either with or without a Light Saber”). I’d feared I would not have sufficient time to complete a Twincident this week, but as luck would have it, I was struck this morning with a jolt of…well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it inspiration, but, it’s…well…

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Merry Christmas From Twinfamy!

A Very Twinfamy Christmas

Merry Christmas From Twinfamy!

Remember the unbridled childhood excitement of Christmas Morning? The insomnia-inducing obsession with the sheer possibilities of the bounty Santa Claus would surely leave under the tree? Staring at the ceiling at 4:00 am, debating asking your parents if you can just cut the nonsense and get this party started right now?

Magical, right?

As we grow older, however, there seems to be less and less magic each year, which ironically provides less and less of a window for acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is it lame that at 29 years old, I’m still waiting for that owl?

But I’m thrilled to say that after believing it was gone forever, I’m suddenly feeling that familiar old Christmas Morning anticipation once again because starting today, my wife and I will be orchestrating that magic for the Twins, as we prepare to give them their First Christmas Ever.

At 11 months, they’re not by any means at an age where they can fully comprehend all that’s happening, but we’re in no hurry for them to grow up any quicker than they already have, and we see this year as a prelude–a taste of many happy memories to come.

And now, on The Night Before Christmas, as I look all through the house (with my dog, the only stirring creature, pawing at my shin for attention now that the Twins are down for a long winter’s nap) I see decorations that will become ingrained in the Twins’ subconscious as Christmas-defining relics, just as my parents magically transformed $4.99 pharmacy purchases into The Singing Christmas Bear I Played With Every Year While We Decorated the Tree, The Christmas Carol Book with Which I Led the Whole Family in Rousing Sing-Alongs, and The Nativity Scene with Which I Fabricated Alternate Biblical Storylines Involving He-Man Saving Baby Jesus from Cobra Commander with the Help of the Three Wise Musketeers, the Ninja Donkey and the Jedi Cow.

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