It wasn't a conversation I was particularly prepared for.
I mean, sure, I knew she'd want to talk about periods eventually... but three months shy of her fifth birthday? I guess I just assumed I had more time. And sure enough, as luck would have it, she brought the subject up when her mom was out of the house, leaving me to tackle it myself.
"Did you know that when you make a sentence you have to put a period at the end? It's a little dot that's like a stop sign for your sentence, Daddy."
In this age of internet hyperbole and algorithmically-driven clickbaitery, I know it is trite to the point of cliche to call anything "the best" anything. Every other headline in our feed reader of choice promises "the best" or "the only" or "the greatest" something or other.
So rest assured, dear reader, when I call this THE BEST breakfast sandwich you'll ever eat I know all too well the skepticism you feel.
When my daughter gets old enough to be curious about such things, she's going to type my name into a search engine and she's going to discover (if she doesn't already know) that her dad lives a pretty open life on the internet. Her mom too. I've been blogging in some capacity since 2005 and I've been writing for publication for even longer than that.
Between old newspaper archives, blogs, Facebook and Twitter, I've left a pretty sizeable digital legacy. And I sometimes stop and think about what it will be like for her to find that.
GamerGate. "Leaked" (I prefer the term stolen) celebrity nudes. Not content with good old garden variety everyday sexism, it seems like the internet has been hellbent on making life especially miserable for anyone who happened to be born without a penis lately.
I was standing in the Doctor of Optometry's office convinced the world was coming to an end. My glasses needed to be fixed and I'd have to wear a loaner pair. They were big, brown, and hideous. I couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 but I was convinced my life was over — or at least my career as a fashion icon (the sort of fashionista that rocked Super Mario Brothers sweatshirts, anyway).
I've had the good fortune to attend several conferences for bloggers and other social media types, both as an attendee and as a speaker. I know firsthand how intimidating the whole experience can be. So if you're planning to attend a conference like BlissDom Canada for the very first time, keep these tips in mind (and if you're a savvy veteran, feel free to drop some knowledge bombs in the comments).
I am writing this as my kid settles (ha!) into bed after her first day of junior kindergarten. Day 1 of her formal, government-sanctioned education. She was nervous, she admitted in the days leading up to it, but mostly she was excited. She loved her nursery school and she's got a fondness for school busses. We met her teacher a few days ago and knew she was kind. We knew the kid was ready to take this step and take the step she did.
It was a good day.
It was, in her words, "the best day at school ever."
Despite my attempts to warn the parents of today about the dangers of girls doing science, it seems the people at TVO and Toronto's Sinking Ship Entertainment are hell-bent on encouraging this risky behaviour.
Our house is slowly returning to normal (if such a thing exists when there's a four-year-old in the mix) after my parents were in town for a week and a bit. I always love when my parents come to visit, but this time there was an extra bit of special..ness(?), as the last full day they were in town was also their 42nd wedding anniversary.
This fall, as my daughter loads up her backpack and heads off to kindergarten for the very first time, her mom will be packing up her books and lunch right alongside her. This fall, my wife is going back to school.
It's that time of year again. The time when the Powers That Be (greeting card companies, probably) decree that you must take a few minutes to honour the men who helped give you (or, if they're too young to do it themselves, your offspring) life.
I had no idea when I wrote my last post, in which I declared it was cool to be a feminist, did I realize that within a couple of days we were going to get such a brutal reminder that it's also incredibly important to be a feminist. And incredibly frustrating. And sometimes incredibly dangerous.
After less than four-and-a-half years in the job, I've already learned some valuable lessons as the father of a daughter. I've learned a lot about my daughter, myself, and the world around us, of course—more than I could ever condense into a single (readable) blog post. But these five things stick out as being fundamentally more important than most:
This may come as a surprise to some of you but sometimes people disagree on the internet. Well, everywhere, really. But there's something about disagreeing on the internet that turns otherwise sane and courteous people into stark raving asshats.
Sadly, I've mostly abandoned all hope for my fellow adults in this regard. Sure, not everyone that creates, comments and shares online is prone to episodes of profound douchebaggery, but I've read enough YouTube comment threads to know that an alarming number of people are.
One might think that, with a title like "4 books all children should have on their shelves," this post is going to be full of classic tales of the power of perseverence, like "The Little Engine That Could;" or heartworming reminders of the power of parental love, like "Love You Forever." And while those books should be on every child's shelf, that's not what this post is about.