I don’t know if the gift of Parseltongue skips a generation or not. As far as I know, neither my wife nor I have it. My folks don’t either, for that matter, though I suppose the big guy’s other grandparents might.

It’s good to be a barbarian.

I have no idea how long the Hokey Pokey has been around. Has it been a century? I don’t know. It’s silly. It’s fun. It’s embarrassing, and I completely understand why my second-grader wouldn’t do it. He’s both too old and not old enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to see the big guy getting creative. I just wish he’d channel that creativity in other directions.

What to do when the kids are driving you absolutely insane? Scare the pants off ’em!

What’s the best way for a second-grade boy to hug his dad? How about if the whole class is watching?

Somewhere out there is a list of things parents are not supposed to do. This is almost certainly on it.

I can honestly say that at no point in my life did I ever utter these particular words. Is it possible we’ve over-educated the big guy?

When it comes to storytelling, what’s more important – the story or the telling? I’ve always thought the telling was the thing, but after this adventure, I’m kind of hoping it’s the story.

Ever really looked forward to a meal, only to have things not work out when you reached the restaurant? I think it’s tougher when you’re only 8.