December 5, 2014

OMG, Stop Sniffling And Use a Tissue!
(The Symphony of {Sniffs})

There are many annoying sounds in this world—road construction at 7 in the morning, most cell phone ringtones, Caillou—but none compare with the Symphony of {sniffs} that overtakes our house every winter during flu season. The Symphony of {sniffs} makes me wish I owned a chalkboard so I could drag my fingernails down it to drown out the noise. Even then, though, the chalkboard would cover its own ears and beg for mercy.

Let me be clear: I’m not talking about sneezes; sneezes I can handle. In fact, I sneeze all the time. Sometimes I sneeze so hard that my headphones fly off my head.1 A good, loud, strong, well-crafted sneeze doesn’t annoy me, it impresses me, the same way I’m impressed by a 104 MPH fastball and Wendy’s Baconator. I can appreciate art. I’m talking about the constant and repetitive sniffing up snot that all kids do. 

And all kids do it. 

When snot runs out of an adult’s nose, the adult, who knows how to do smart things like set up an in-home wireless network or Photoshop a picture of a dog dunking a baseketball, will wipe that snot up with a tissue—unless, of course, there is no tissue to be found. Then he (or she) will use the backside of his (or her) sleeve.2 We will go through tissue after tissue (or sleeve after sleeve) to keep our upper lip free and clear. We will do this not only because we’re mature and it’s the right thing to do, but also because it may be Thursday night and you know what Thursday night means. {wink wink} 3

Kids, on the other hand, understand the concept of using a tissue about as well as they understand calculus. A box of tissues could be sitting on their lap with the top tissue sitting up so high it’s practically touching their nose, and instead of using it, they will go {sniff} and suck that mucus right back up into their brain.


{sniff} {sniff} {sniff}

That doesn’t seem so bad, you say. I mean, how terrible can it be, you say.  After all, it’s all lowercase and lacks an exclamation point! If it were serious it’d have an exclamation point!

That’s what people without kids think. People with kids know better. They know that the {sniff} doesn’t need any additional punctuation to drive you insane. They know that the {sniff} wears you down and makes you want to hurl yourself out the window!4 They know that the {sniff} doesn’t come to the party alone. The {sniff} brings {sniff} after {sniff} after {sniff}. Let me give you a couple (of maddening) examples.

Example #1: You’re rocking out to your favorite band in the car. For argument’s sake, let’s say it’s not the Imagination Movers. Let’s pretend it’s someone cool like Rick Astley. You’re trying to sing along but, in the background, after every 4th word, you hear {sniff}.
We’ve known each other{sniff} for so long, your {sniff} heart’s been aching, but {sniff} you’re too shy to {sniff} say (inaudible mumble while you headbob) … we know the {sniff} game and we’re gonna {sniff} play it.
See how annoying it is—and you’re only reading it! I can assure you that no matter how loud you turn up the volume, you will still, somehow, hear each and every {sniff}. The real victim here, though, is Rick Astley.

Example #2: You’re on the phone with a friend and you’re SO close to solving world hunger but you just can’t hear your friend’s ideas because all you can hear is:
{sniff} … {sniff} … {sniff} … {sniff} … {sniff}
It’s like a slow drip from a leaky faucet, only you can’t stop the sound by calling the plumber. Trust me, I’ve tried. No matter how much money you offer the plumber, he (or she) will refuse to come to your house and stop the leaky nose. Worse yet, your friend has now solved world hunger without you and doesn’t even thank you when he (or she) appears on Ellen. What a jerk.

Example #3: It’s 3 A.M. in the morning and all you’ve heard for the last 4 hours (and all you will hear for the next 4 hours) is:
{sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff} {sniff}5

The point is, parents have a lot of miserable things to deal with—The Symphony of {sniffs}, dirty diapers, bloody knees, homework assignments that are more work for the parents than they are for the kids, Ebola—and yet we still find the strength and willpower every day to wake up, brave the exhaustion that awaits, and care for our kids. We do it because we love them. We do it because for every {sniff} there is a hug and a smile. We do it because one day we will be old and we don’t want them to stick us in the crappy nursing home that used to be a run-down Howard Johnson (you know, the one with all the murders!).

But mostly it’s for the hugs and smiles.
1 This is 100% true. My co-workers will confirm this. So will Twitter
2 I included the pronoun “she” to indicate that I am not sexist and will not adhere to the sexist rule of only using the pronoun “he” when a singular pronoun is needed. I want to make sure that women are treated equally when discussing wiping snot on their sleeves. (You are welcome women!)
4 Did you know there’s a word for throwing something out a window? It’s defenestrate. I hid it here in the footnotes, though, because it sounds dirty.
5 {sniff}

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

May 22, 2014

The Bite Report

As parents we send our kids off to many places—school, summer camp, grandma’s candy-filled house—where things happen. I mean, things happen everywhere, right? Or so, as parents, we would believe. Clearly this is faulty logic on our part, though, because when my kids return home from nearly anywhere and I ask, “What did you do today?” the answer is always “Nothing.”

“What did you do at school today?”

“What did you do at grandma’s house?”

“Nothing? Are you sure? I mean, you spent the night there. And she took you out to dinner. And she took you to a festival. And she sent me photos of you at 10 PM last night still awake and eating chocolate-chip ice cream with sprinkles on top—which reminds me, I fired your grandmother and am looking for a replacement grandmother, but we can discuss that later. So think about it again. What did you do at grandma’s house?”

Long pause.


This holds true for my oldest two daughters who, amazingly, have greatly improved their math skills, science skills, reading skills and monkey-bar swinging skills, all while doing “Nothing” during school hours and who nearly always come home with giant smiles on their faces after spending a day with their (former) grandparents doing “Nothing.” But not so much for my youngest daughter.

Our youngest daughter is still a full-time member with our sitter. Most days, for approximately 8 hours, she molds Play-Doh, naps and asks our sitter to help her “find her baby” which she seems to lose on a regular basis. (NOTE: I would not recommend hiring our youngest to babysit your kids). But I look forward to picking her up from our wonderful sitter the most, not because she still runs and gives me a giant hug (which I love) or because she smells like Cheez-Its (which I also love). It’s because when I ask her, “What did you do today?” she doesn’t say “Nothing.” Instead, she gives me The Bite Report.

The Bite Report is a daily record of who bit whom (and who didn’t bite whom) at the sitter’s house. She delivers it as if she were Secretary of State, standing on the floor of the Capitol building, recounting the key moments of the day that need to be logged into the national register. Here is an example of a typical Bite Report, though please keep in mind that the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and for my own personal amusement).

“What’d did you do today?” I ask.
“2Pac didn’t bite anyone today!” she says, as if this were my only concern in life.
“Oh no?”
“Nope. He didn’t.”
“That’s great!”
“Beyonce didn’t bite anyone either!”
“That’s also excellent news!”
“My baby doll did bite me, though, so I had to put her in timeout.”
“Your baby doll bit you?”
“Yes, but after timeout she didn’t anymore.”
“Thank goodness.”

Now before anyone gets all judgmental and says, “How could you send your kids to a place where kids are biting other kids?” I say to you with a very well thought-out and reasoned response: “Because it’s close to work.” Also all the kids are two-years-old and younger and very rarely does anyone actually bite anyone, but my daughter has committed to memory the handful of times it’s happened (though, like any good celebrity Tweet-Gone-Wrong cover-up, she manages to omit her own biting offenses from the record books).

I used to find it a bit concerning that this was the No. 1 news story from her day, but thanks to the lack of activity—and reporting—from my older kids, I find The Bite Report to be as fascinating as TMZ. In fact, I’ve attempted to start an underground gambling ring with my wife based off The Bite Report.

“I’ll bet you $5 that Shakira is the first biter today!”

“I’m not gambling,” said my wife. “I’ve only ever gambled once and don’t want to do it again.”

“What happened, did you lose?”

She paused as she stared directly at me, taking in the fact that I was wearing cut-off jeans, hadn’t shaved for days and had spent the previous 30 minutes telling her all the fun facts I learned about the boy-band One Direction on Wikipedia.

“The jury is still out.”

I know The Bite Report has a shelf life, as these kids grow and mature and do other things, like tackle each other. But in a world where big kids are too tired to tell you what’s happening in their lives, it’s still nice to know that every day I can count on one constant report that’s cute and sweet and will forever remind me that, once upon a time, my daughter liked to tell me about her day.

Also, if you’d like to receive The Bite Report, please follow me @BrianKlems. And if you’re currently looking for a new gig and are of grandmotherly-age, I know of a family that’s hiring.

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

March 28, 2014

How I Met Your Mother - The Night of the Rose

Hey kids, have I ever told you the story of how I met your mother? It's not the kind of fairytale you'd find in a Disney movie (and I would know because we own all of them). There's not really a prince or a princess or a witty talking crab named Sebastian (though, admittedly, that would have been totally awesome). It isn't a story quite like that. But it is the story of a boy who fell in love and it's one that, much like the final episode of "Saved By The Bell," will always hold a special place in my heart.

The year was 1997.
I stood there, my heart racing a mile a minute. The anticipation of waiting for your mother to answer the door was killing me. It was 11 p.m. and I was a young 18-year-old dude, about to leave for senior trip with three of my closest buddies in the world. The car was loaded with supplies that all 18-year-old boys pack for a senior trip to Florida—snacks, swim trunks, cases of … Pepsi. They were parked at the end of the driveway, hanging outside the car, waiting for me as I stood there all alone with a rose in my hand.

It could have been 30 seconds. It could have been two hours. Time stood still for me from the moment I rang that doorbell until your mother's door opened. Only it wasn't your mother, it was her mother (your Nonni). 

She stared at me, giving me the once over. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. Was she wondering why I was ringing her bell so late at night? Was she wondering why I was standing there holding a rose? Was she wondering why one of my buddies was peeing in her neighbor's yard?

I concentrated not to stumble over my words.

"Is Brittany here?" I asked.

Without much hesitation she smiled. While I'm not quite sure what raced through her head at that moment, that smile indicated that she saw me as her daughter's knight in shining armor (if you count 90s grunge-wear and a chain wallet as shining armor), and that she'd been waiting for me to come and sweep her daughter off her feet. This was the moment she had been waiting for. It was the moment I had been waiting for. Destiny had finally arrived, and she topped it off with three magical words:

"Are you Jeff?"

Well this suddenly got awkward.

Your mother and I had actually met months before.
You see I had just split up with a girl at the beginning of senior year. She was nice and sweet, but she liked Dave Matthews and I, like many young high school boys at the time, pretended to like Dave Matthews. We ended on kind of a sour note and I swore off girls.

But a funny thing happens when you suddenly meet the girl of your dreams—you can't stop yourself from falling in love. It just happens.

Your mother had been hanging out with one of my good friends, Jennifer. They were eating dinner at a Perkins one night when I stopped by with a friend.1 I remember that night because it was the first time I looked deep into your mother's eyes. They were beautiful. It was also the night I realized how awesome I looked in sweater vests. I didn't say anything, mainly because when you're young and in love you have no clue know what to say. And if you do have the courage to speak, you usually say something stupid like, "Did you know I'm in a band? We're super awesome and totally going to make it." 2

There are a lot of other stories I could tell you—like the night of my graduation party or the Ben Folds Five concert where we both attended with friends and my friends, all of whom lived by the high school guy commandment "When You Have A Chance to Embarrass Your Close Friend, You Do It," did all they could to "help" me get close to your mother. Or the party where our friends debated whether or not your mother would date me (I don't think they were taking into consideration this newfound information about me and sweater vests).

But I don't want to ramble on for what will feel like nine years. So I'll get back to the key story, the one where I stood on your Nonni and Poppi's front porch in the middle of the night, with a single red rose in my hand, just before leaving for Florida with my friends—who were now all peeing in the neighbor's yard—trying to win over your mother.

I had been called a lot of things in my life before, but I had never been called "Jeff."
I'd later find out from your mother that "Jeff" was her friend's boyfriend3, but for all I knew at the time, he was her boyfriend or worse, a Cubs fan. My confidence shrank faster than a post-PED Barry Bonds head and it took everything in me to muster up a response.

"Uh, no."

"Oh," your Nonni said. "Just wait right here a minute while I get her."

I could hear her call up to your mother's room. If there were a time to bail, this was it. But like I said before, you can't stop yourself from falling in love.

When your mother arrived at the door, she looked like an angel. And for the next 90 seconds I professed my love to her, telling her I couldn't stop thinking about her and how I wanted to spend more time with her. She didn't say much, but she didn't have to. I was wearing a sweater vest. 

With that I left for Florida with my friends. We had a lot of fun, drank a lot of … Pepsis, narrowly avoided getting beat up (twice) and more. But I couldn't get your mother out of my mind. And when we got home, she was one of the first people I called.

So that's the story of how I met your mother—or, at least, the most important moment of when we met. I hope you girls have a fun story to tell describing the amazing night when you meet your future spouse. Of course, this can't happen until you're 55. And I'm dead.

1 When your mother tells this story she claims I stopped by after a high school dance where I was someone else's date. In truth, her memory is a little foggy because that night she had a little too much … Pepsi.
2 No bands ever make it. Though my band, Optimus Prhyme, totally would have made it. But we chose to step away from future glory to focus on something even more important—our softball careers.
3 I'd like to think that he actually spells his names with quote marks around it.

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

February 21, 2014

How The 100th Day of School Aged My Daughter 94 Years

Today is my wife’s birthday, which means, if my arithmetic is correct, she’s turning one year older than she turned last year. Oddly enough, both years she turned 29. And the year before that she turned 29 too. She must use that new wave math that politicians use when creating budgets.

Either way, happy birthday to my beautiful wife, who is smarter than I am, funnier than I am and looks almost as good in yoga pants as I do.1

Today is another significant day in our lives, as my eldest daughter turns 100. (I know what you’re thinking: I look super young for having a 100-year-old. I should really write a post about beauty tips.) That’s her in the picture to the right.

I promise that this is not a cruel joke we are playing on my wife to make her feel old on her birthday, though that would have been an awesome joke had we thought of it first! In fact, my daughter and her classmates are celebrating their 100th day of school by dressing up as 100-year-olds. They are demanding that we parents turn down our loud music and have dinner ready for them by 4 p.m. They are also requesting more bran in their diet and telling us stories about how they survived that one time in their youth when they had to watch a TV show on a non-HDTV. (Oh, how rough they once had it.)

The scene at her school this morning looked less like a group of elementary kids getting dropped off to learn and enlighten their minds and more like a group of old-timers getting dropped off to play bingo. The only things missing were ink daubers and good-luck troll dolls.

When dressing my daughter up, my wife and I agreed that there were five essential elements to looking like a 100-year-old. We found them all (as you can see in the picture) and they are, as follows:

Fancy hat? Check!
Curlers? Check!
Bathrobe? Check!
Skinny glasses with string to keep around neck? Check!
Carefully crafted wrapping paper cardboard-roll cane with tennis ball on the end? Check!

I asked my daughter if she and her friends planned to talk like old people too? I’m not sure if she knew what I meant. The more I thought about this, though, the more I realized that I am so old now that I’m probably more likely to understand the antiquated language of a 100-year-old than I am the hip language of a grade schooler. I have been listening closely to my daughter and her friends so I can get a better understanding of their lingo and, I’m happy to report, I have learned a few things, which is hard when you’re as old as a dinosaur. I have learned that instead of saying “totally,” they say “totes.” And instead of laughing they just say “LOL.” Apparently they have no time to communicate in full words.

Let me give you an example of a conversation between first graders and then give you the translated equivalent of the same conversation between 100-year-olds so you also have a better understanding of the generational differences between the two.  

A first-grader conversation:
Kid 1: Geez, LOL. Did you munch that new ep of Austin & Ally?
Kid 2: Totes. I rocked it on my iPad all day.
Kid 1: Totes.

Same conversation held by 100-year-olds:
Old Person #1: Did you see that show about those young whippersnappers who sing?
Old Person #2: No, I’m blind.
Old Person #1: Me too!

When I was in grade school we didn’t celebrate the 100th Day of school. That wasn’t a thing, just like the Internet wasn’t a thing and Justin Bieber wasn’t a thing (OK, so growing up eons ago wasn’t all bad). But grade school is a lot more fun nowadays. My daughter has had crazy-hair day and movie day and all sorts of other fun events that get woven in between the wonderful education she’s getting at her grade school. As a parent, this is kind of a glorious time to have kids in school. You really get to participate and enjoy it.

The 100th Day of School “Dress Like You’re 100” Day will go down in my books as one of my favorite days of grade school yet. Plus, it’ll be a nice way for my wife to remember her fourth 29th birthday. 2

Though I have to admit, I’m looking forward to my daughter coming home and taking off the old lady garb. After all, she’s still my little lady and I prefer to keep her that way as long as I can.

1You are now picturing me in yoga pants, aren’t you? You’re welcome.
2It’s not really her fourth 29th birthday, but I value my life too much to tell you which one!

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

January 31, 2014

Super Bowl Games for Young Kids: The Candy Bowl

Watching the Super Bowl with young kids is nearly impossible.

There's yelling and screaming, and that's just from your wife who is trying to get the kids to stop standing on the coffee table.1

You miss the best plays of the game because you're cleaning up spilled Capri Suns off the carpet and you miss the best commercials because you're in the bathroom reading Blue Hat, Green Hat to your youngest who thinks she has to poop and refuses to get up until you've read the book at least 45 times. 

I was tired of not being able to watch the Super Bowl, the most popular thing in America, so last year I devised a strategy to get the kids involved by showing them the second most popular thing in America: Gambling. 

I grabbed a piece of paper and a marker and created a Super Bowl Box Pool or, as we like to call it, The Candy Bowl. I altered the rules a little to make it kid-friendly and will share them with you (I've included an image of our Candy Bowl chart below to help.)

The Super Bowl Box Pool for Kids
(aka The Candy Bowl)

The Set Up
1. Grab a sheet of paper and a pen.
2. Draw horizontal lines and vertical lines until you create a giant square with 100 boxes inside.
3. Tear a piece of paper into 10 small pieces and number each one zero through nine. 
4. Find a hat (or, in the case of a dad with three daughters, a Dora purse). 

The Rules
1. Take turns putting initials in each box until the entire 100 squares are accounted for. 
2. Adults may play, but they are allowed only 1 box for every 2 boxes initialed by each child. 
3. Take four boxes and mark them as "Community Boxes." If the score hits on one of these boxes, everyone wins. (This gives everyone a few numbers to root for together.)
4. Kids take turns pulling numbers out of the hat (Dora purse) to determine which number is associated with each row. Do this once for the horizontal rows and once for the vertical rows. 

The Prizes - Pick from the Candy Bowl
1. End of the First Quarter: 1 piece of candy
2. End of the Second Quarter: 1 piece of candy
3. End of the Third Quarter: 1 piece of candy
4. End of the Fourth Quarter: 2 pieces of candy2 

This game, this simple game, kept my kids much quieter than in years past. Suddenly they were invested in the Super Bowl. Their eyes glued to the score, as if the score were an episode of "Sophia the First." The asked me relevant questions about the football, such as "How do the teams score points?" and "How long until someone wins candy?" instead of "Dad, why doesn't your head grow any hair?" They spent more time snuggling on the couch with me than standing on the coffee table3, and stayed focused long enough for us to enjoy the game together. Most amazingly, they spent the entire year asking me when we could do it again.

So with this year's Super Bowl right around the corner, gather your paper, marker and Dora purse and get ready to go. It's time to start your annual tradition of The Candy Bowl. 

1 In their defense, they were playing Lava Floor and if they touched the ground, they'd be melted by hot lava. 
2 If you want to step it up, you could make little goodie bags of treats to give away. I would, but I usually am too busy reading Blue Hat, Green Hat.
3 Though we did keep our feet up off the ground. I mean, the floor is made of lava for Christ's sake. 

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

January 27, 2014

Should You Thank Your Wife for Heating up a Frozen Pizza?

Question: Should you thank your wife for heating up frozen pizza for dinner? This was a hot topic at my house on a recent Friday night. Most evenings we’re like any other family when it comes to preparing dinner: We make seven-course meals with mostly fresh fruits and vegetables and other healthy dietary options while drinking organic Jamba Juice1, but on the occasional Friday night we take the cheap and easy way out.

On this particular evening, I requested frozen pizza for dinner. My wife, who arrived home early and was in a good mood because she was only minutes away from seeing my handsome face2, heated up the oven and threw in two frozen pizza pies. My daughters and I arrived home. We sat around the table discussing the finer points of English languagenamely when and where it’s appropriate to say the word “poop”when the oven dinged and my wife dished out the frozen pizza.

Then there was an awkward moment. And an argument. A ridiculous argument over whether or not the girls and I should say thank you to my wife for heating up store-bought frozen pizza for dinner.

To settle our dispute I did what any self-respecting adult would do in this situation: I asked Facebook. 

Thirty-three people commented on the post. The answers ranged from this:

To this:

To this:

In fact, by a landslide 31-1 vote, the consensus (whatever that means) was that “Yes, you thank your wife for making dinner, even if it’s just heating up frozen pizza in the oven.” Many of the responses stuck it to me, with a “I can’t believe you would even consider not thanking your wife. You’re dumber than a slug!”3

One comment, though, wasn’t a vote. It pointed out an oddity in the question: “I'm still trying to figure out what science has to do with this.”

While the scientific note was mostly a joke, it did serve a slightly grander purpose: Everyone thought that I was arguing NOT to thank my wife. That assumption was dead wrong.

Every night when my wife makes dinnerwhether it’s chicken parmesan, quesadillas, salmon and rice, macaroni and cheese, canned soup, or frozen pizzaI thank her. And I make sure all our kids thank her too. I do this because 1) I think it’s important to thank whoever put in the time (no matter how little time it takes) to prepare your dinner and 2) I want my kids to always show appreciation for their mom, someone who works tirelessly at a 40-plus hours-per-week job to help provide for them all while taking care of us (which is probably more exhausting than the 40-plus hours-per-week job). And just because on occasional Friday nights she’s too tired (and I’m too tired) to make a big meal, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be showing our gratitude for the meal she did make.

So when the girls and I thanked her for making the frozen pizza, shemy beautiful, lovely, kind and generous wifeargued that we shouldn’t thank her for simply heating up pizza. I said that we should. She told me to stop. We actually fought about this for quite awhile. And, while I’m not proud of it, there was some name-calling:

Me: “You’re so unreasonable! Just accept our gratitude you clown!”
My Wife: “I’ll tell you where you can stick that thank you, you super-sexy piece of man meat!” 4

The point is, my wife fluffs off a lot of things because she believes that's just what you do for the people you love. I want her to know that we appreciate her, even for the simplest of tasks. And, thanks to modern marvels like Facebook, I proved that I’m right.

Which means that for the first time in the many years that we’ve been together and the many disagreements that we’ve had, I can finally utter the phrase, “I was right.” 5

So I’m going to continue thanking my wife when she makes frozen pizza (and when she does other things to care for our family, no matter how big or how small). And I’m going to make our daughters do it too. I guess she's just going to have to live with it, just like she lives with this super-sexy piece of man meat.

1 This is a lie. We eat Burger King.
2 This is also a lie. She was happy to have a few quiet minutes to herself before I brought all our loud kids home (though I’m sure my handsome face helped too).
3 Except for those snooty, elitist Ivy League slugs. Thankfully none of them read this blog.
4 Well, that’s what I heard anyway.
5 This is a big lie. I’ve been right twice before: 1) Bacon is not gross, it’s delicious and 2) watching “Who’s Harry Crumb?” with me repeating every line IS fun!

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things. 

January 8, 2014

10 Things You Need to Do at Disney World’s Magic Kingdom

Going to Disney World is a right of passage that many families go through. It’s a place where your dreams come true—if your dreams include having your photo taken with Rapunzel and spending $14 on a box of four tiny chicken nuggets. It’s also the happiest place on Earth, and here’s why.

Disney does everything right. They may take all of your money (and the deed to both of your kidneys), but they take careful care and consideration of the Disney Experience and really do give you an adventure that you can’t get anywhere else. That’s why I’ve put together the 10 things I think everyone needs to see or do or know about while at the Magic Kingdom. By doing these things, it's hard not to have a great time.

1. The Disney FastPass

Everyone who goes to Disney is eligible for a FastPass. FastPasses typically work like this: Instead of standing in long lines, you can sign up at kiosks around the park (and on your smartphone) and reserve a time to ride any ride that is eligible for the FastPass. The program lets you know what times are available to reserve (some rides book up quickly), and you get a limit of 3 per day day—which is amazingly fair if you think about it. Basically you’re cutting in line, but everyone is given the chance to cut in line a few times to make sure that everyone is able to ride what’s most important to him or her (and their family).

2. It’s a Small World

This classic Disney ride kind of encapsulates everything about Disney—its all-inclusive nature and how we can all connect with love, happiness and empty wallets. Seeing cultures represented from all over the world in a calming boat ride is a nice way to start your trip and introduce you to Disney. Also, I recommend only riding it once. The more you ride it and listen to that song, the more you get the feeling that the animatronic characters are going to murder you.

3. Watch Mickey’s PhilharMagic (& Any Other 3D Attraction)

We were blown away by how amazing the 3D technology is. In fact, it is so well executed that my middle daughter got scared and refused to wear the glasses because she was afraid Donald Duck was going to hit us with his flying carpet. The PhilharMagic is a must-see (and so is the Muppet Show in Disney’s Hollywood park).

4. Character Parade/Princess Parade

Officially called the “Move it! Shake it! Celebrate it! Street Party” and the “Celebrate a Dream Come True Parade,” these parades rotate throughout the day traveling up and down the main drag of the Magic Kingdom (the one leading up to it’s iconic Cinderella Castle). You .. er, I’m mean, the kids can dance with many of the Disney characters. So if you’ve ever wanted to shake it with Cinderella or line dance with Jessie the Cowgirl, this is your chance. I busted a move with Frozone from the Incredibles. It was awesome.

5. Enchanted Tales with Belle

Also known as Storytime with Belle, this event is one of the most impressive at the Magical Kingdom. Kids (and adults) get the opportunity to play the roles of the Beauty and the Beast characters and perform an (extremely) abbreviated version of the movie, and they get to interact with an animatronic Wardrobe and the famous Lumiere (both of which blew my mind). I offered to play The Beast, but apparently my acting skills were not up-to-snuff so they cast some fresh-off-of-naptime 4 year old to play the role. (I mean come on, that kid couldn’t even grow a mustache!)

6. Monster’s Inc. Laugh Floor

This is an animated show where characters from the Monster’s Inc. movies provide stand-up comedy. They poke fun at audience members (yes: on screen characters make jokes about people in the audience, whom they show on a separate big screen). It’s pretty funny for kids and adults alike. Also, while waiting in line, you can text jokes to the Monsters and a handful get used in the live show. Though they didn’t use my, “A screwdriver walks into a bar. The bartender says, ‘Hey, we have a drink named after you!’ The Screwdriver responds, ‘You have a drink named Kevin?’"

7. Pirates of the Caribbean

Disney has made billions of dollars on movies based on this ride, so you really can’t go to the Magic Kingdom without exploring the pirate life. Plus, if you pay attention, you can spot Johnny Depp, er, Jack Sparrow.

8. Meet Mickey

You can meet all the Disney princesses and characters that you want—and our girls wanted to meet most of them—but none of them compare to meeting Mickey. He’s really the star of the show. His mouth moves when he talks, which endeared him to some of our kids and freaked out others, and you get to meet him in an individual room, so don’t feel as rushed with him as you do most of the other characters (where you can still see the line of impatient kids waiting behind you).

9. The Electrical Parade

The Electrical Parade is an evening parade that takes place a couple times a week, where they shut down the streets/paths of the Magic Kingdom and have beautifully lit floats caravan throughout the park. It’s almost like they’ve taken the most wonderfully decorated houses at Christmas Time and put them on wheels. The parade has been around since I was a kid and it’s just as mesmerizing now as it was then.

10. The Castle Show

Shortly before the fireworks close down the park, music starts to play and the iconic Cinderella Castle in the middle of the part begins changing colors. It’s unbelievable. Images of characters float on the walls, as if the castle is some kind of humungous plasma TV that has curve and angles that display in high-def. Really, it feels like a Pixar movie is happening right in front of your eyes and it’s breathtaking. We went back to see it a second time and I was just as amazed as the first time. This show sums up the entire Disney experience for me: Simply magical.

Editor's Note: To clear up some confusion, I was not paid in any way by Disney to write this. I genuinely had an amazing time at the Magic Kingdom and thought this list of "musts" would benefit my audience and other parents, many of whom probably have a trip to Disney on their radar.

Oh Boy, You're Having a Girl
(A Dad's Survival Guide to Raising Daughters)

* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!  
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things.