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Alex Goetchius
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Last week at school on Halloween morning my son made a comment about the hair of some kid in his class.

Sometimes my son will say or do something unintentionally mean, and the result will be something less than pleasant.

In this case the kid twisted my son's arm behind his back as if he were trying to break it. My son tried to apologize but the kid wasn't having any of it and totally ignored my son for the rest of the day.

For a kid who has a hard time making real friends, the twisting of his arm behind his back was a lot less painful for my son then the kid completely blowing him off.

But the school's staff had a different opinion on the matter and sent the kid home before the school's Halloween parade and party. His parents also forbid him to go trick or treating that night.

So my son in an act of kindness took the rest of the candy that he hadn't already eaten or given to the Great Pumpkin, put it in a bag and brought it to school to give to the kid who missed out on Halloween.

Hopefully the school's staff won't see this as some sort of undermining of their disciplinary methods. And hopefully the kid won't see it as some kind of extortion payment for protection against himself.

Hopefully unfiltered eyes will see this as simple kindness from a boy who believes in second chances, and believes no one should miss out on Halloween.

Copyright 2013 Diary of an Accidental Dad
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Every year my kids go trick or treating on Halloween, then sort out their candy for The Great Pumpkin. The more candy they leave in their sacks to be put out in the garden for The Great Pumpkin, the bigger the toys he leaves them.

Its a great way to get rid of a lot of the crap they're sure to fill up on in the days that follow, and the toy is a small price to pay, to avoid dealing with their belly aches from eating too much junk.

Of course I make sure they put aside for The Great Pumpkin, all the types of candy that I like most. Which does nothing for my own belly ache, but its a small sacrifice I make to keep my kids healthy and believing in magic.
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"See dad this is the cream mom uses" my daughter told me through a fountain of tears after my wife had applied some healing ointment to the rash on my daughter's butt.

My daughter had pooped in school earlier that day, and neither she or her teacher had cleaned her well enough. So an itchy, red rash made itself at home between her butt cheeks.

I felt helpless trying to ease her pain, and rifled through the downstairs closet looking for the cream my wife used for such occasions.

Like a madman I pulled everything from the shelves and tossed each item to the floor as it became clear they weren't the thing I was looking for.

I looked at the pile of batteries, hairbrushes, cold medicine and duct tape that now sat on the kitchen floor, amazed it had all fit inside the closet, when my daughter's crying finally stopped.

I bolted up the stairs and toward her room. I found her there smiling and sitting comfortably in her mother's arms.

She held the jar up beside her face like a model on The Price Is Right and said, "It feels like a cupcake on my butt."

I was just happy her pain had lessened enough for all of us to sleep. But as I lay in bed drifting in and out of dreams I wondered how she knew what a cupcake felt like on her butt.

And I made a mental note not to eat any of my kids' leftover desserts that look like they've been sat on.

copyright diary of an Accidental Dad 2013
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My three year old daughter was on the potty this morning when I accidentally walked in on her.

"Hi sweetie," I said, "whatcha doing? Pooping or peeing?"

That may seem like an odd question to ask but I needed to brace myself for whichever I had to help her clean up after.

If its just pee she can usually handle it all by herself, but if its poo then I'm gonna have to get my hands dirty.

But instead of answering one or the other, she just looked at me a little annoyed and said "dad, I have my period!"

Sorry sweetie, you're on you're own.

Later when I asked my daughter if she knew what a period was she said, "its when you get holes in your ears and put earrings in them."

Copyright diary of an accidental dad 2013
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If you can't laugh and love, what is there?
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My daughter's classroom is filled with flies. The flies multiply every day, and when I drop my daughter off there's just more and more, even though both teachers are doubly armed with flyswatters.
 I started to panic a little when I imagined my daughter having a snack in her class while the flies helped themselves to it first. It made me want to call out sick, roll up my sleeves and help these two outnumbered and overmatched ladies kill these dirty fuckers!
 Later, my son left the door to the house open after he and his sister got home from school, and I guess a bunch of bugs flew in. But its only after everyone had gone to bed and I was alone in the quiet of the house, that I could see them all buzzing around my head.
 So there I was wanting to relax with a freshly poured cocktail But instead I watched the mosquitos and the flies taunting me as they dive bombed past my face, and then towards the orgasmic sensation of the kitchen light.
 BAM!!! Down went a mosquito with the palm of my hand, squashing it into a brown and red paste against the ceiling.
 BOOM!!! A fly is splattered against the window as I flicked it hard with the tip of my middle finger.
 Finally the battle ended, there was just one fly left. I rolled up a damp dishrag by holding two corners and twisted it into a whip. I nailed it right between the eyes, and he catapulted across the kitchen and then landed in my drink.
 I didn't discover this until I'd finished off most of my cocktail, and I saw him lying there lifeless and bloated with booze. I felt sad for him for a second, and then I realized he'd gotten the last laugh.
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Alex Goetchius

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I got kicked off of Ebay today.  Its not even worth discussing why, unless laughing at my follies is something that would really make your day.  Then I'd consider it.

Suffice it to say I now have an even better understanding and appreciation for when my son gets in trouble for something he didn't do.  And a real empathy for how hard he tries to fight back even when it doesn't help.

I tell my son the only thing that helps at that point is laughing at how stupid it is.

And so all day long I've been singing the "I'm a poor excuse for an adult' blues, but now I can't help but take my own advice and laugh.
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We dropped our kids off at the Little Gym so that my wife and I could have a couple of hours to spend on a rare and well deserved date.

Naturally when you leave your kids by themselves somewhere you wind up spending the entire date missing them and worrying about them.

Of course after a few sips of wine the worrying starts to fade and by the second glass we forgot we even had kids.

But reality smacked us in the face and sobered us up once we got back to retrieve our offspring.

My daughter was sitting in the corner of the gym sucking her thumb, which she only does when she's upset.

My son looked pretty shaken up as well and was pacing in circles in front of his sister, carefully surveying the rest of the gym by shifting his eyes left and right.

When he saw us, he grabbed his sister's hand and ran past us.  He picked up his sister and put her in the car, and then jumped in and sat next to her.

On the car ride home my son quietly told us how some boy had teased and bullied his sister, and how he had to come to her rescue several times.

My son handled each round of escalating bullying with tact, by issuing one stern warning after another.

But the kid wouldn't relent, and when he punched my daughter in the face my son finally had enough and lost all sense of reason.

"Don't you ever touch my sister again Mother Fucker!" my son screamed in the boy's face as he pinned him to the ground.

Now maybe some of you may disagree with the way my son handled things. Maybe his diplomacy should have extended beyond the punch to my daughter's face.

But even I would have had a hard time not reacting the same way (if not worse) if I saw my daughter take a punch to the face.

So with only the slightest of reservations do I say my son is my hero.  I only wish someone had my back as well as he has hers.

copyright Diary of an Accidental Dad 2013
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My wife is the coolest, sexiest woman I've ever met.  Its easy to forget that after raising kids together and seeing each other at our worst.
The relentless garbage cans and dishes, the jobs that stress us out, and the gross stuff the kids produce that we need to wipe up after, beg to drive a wedge between us.
But with an empty house to ourselves for a few hours tonight while the kids were away, its nice to know that the fire is still there.  Its an amazing feeling to have, knowing that I can still make her laugh, tingle and explode like the first day we met.
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My son sat there with his arm raised before the teacher even asked the question in science class last Friday.

No one else even bothered to look up let alone raise their own hand. They just looked down at their shoes or feigned a look of deep concentration.

They all desperately tried to appear as if they were thinking long and hard about the question, rather than looking like they were praying silently, "don't call on me."

The teacher would have rather heard from anyone other than my son, who is at times a class clown and can be a bit disruptive. But with no one else to turn to the teacher called on him.

"Sorry, I don't know," my son said through a sheepish smile. "Well why did you raise your hand!?" his dumbfounded teacher responded.

"I thought I'd figure out what the answer was before you called on me."
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Trying my best not fuck my kids up
Introduction
Author of Diary of an Accidental Dad.