Being the parent of small kids definitely has its perks on occasion.

Take presents for example. B and J frequently come up to me and give me little gifts. Sometimes it’s stuff they’ve made, like cards or pictures. Sometimes it’s stuff they’ve found, like leaves, dandelions flowers or stones.

For example, the other day, J gave me a shiny red plastic bead. According to her, she received it from her real, live ladybug friend named Sam. I don’t think that actually happened, but I’m never sure with that girl. Regardless, whatever the case may be, as soon as I hear the words ‘Daddy! I have something for you’, and my kids come rushing over to me, faces lit up with excitement, I know I’m in for a treat.

I’m grateful for all of the gifts, too, yo.  I know their generosity to me probably won’t last forever. B and J are five and three years old, respectively, as of this writing. Based on what I hear from parents of teenagers, though, the only thing that I can expect to receive from them when they are older is a lot of grief. Or a cold shoulder.

But that’s a problem for the future. Right now, in the present, I can appreciate the presents. It isn’t hard to realize that they come from my children’s innocent, undying love for their dad.

Oh, hey kids! Wassup?

You each made something for me?

How thoughtful!

OK, J, what do you got?


You drew this all by yourself?


And it’s a picture of me?!


It’s very life-like, especially my bald head. This is going straight to the fridge. Thanks very much!

What’s that B? You wrote me a letter?

This really is my lucky day.  Alright, let’s see it!



Daddy is mean?


You’re still mad that I sent you to your room, eh? Well, you didn’t give me much choice. Tough love, lil dude. Don’t worry, you’ll thank me for it when you’re bigger.

You want to make me a picture now, too, like J did?

I can’t wait to see it!


Interesting. Can you explain your drawing?

So, the big person is you, and the little one is me? And that big circle is your giant brain, while the tiny dot is my itty bitty brain? You stole this idea from that episode of The Fresh Prince, when Will joins Bel-Air’s basketball team, didn’t you? It’s the scene where Will and Carlton draw each other on the chalkboard. How creative.

Well, at least you made sure to personalize it by writing ‘bad’. Man, you really hated being sent to your room, huh?

Oh, you drew another picture?





What the heck is going on here?

You wrote ‘bad dad’, I see. Lovely.

And that’s me slapping a guy on the back? Who’s that guy? Am I giving him a congratulatory back-slap, like ‘way to go, buddy?’


I’m just hitting some random man from behind as hard as I can?

Well, I guess that would make me pretty bad, if I actually walked around doing that to people.

Can you explain the other parts, though? What is above our heads?

You drew a bum? And a tongue and lips?


So I can kiss your butt?!

Hardy-har-har. Real funny, wiseguy!

You’re sorry? Fine.

Yes, you can write me a nice apology letter. I could really use one –



Hey, you didn’t apolgize in this! It says daddy smells like a butt! So what, because I apparently kiss your butt, now I have a lingering booty odor on me, is this what you are implying?!


You don’t know what implying means?  I just smell like a butt? That’s just terrific, then.



Not cool, bro. Not cool.

Well, this took an unexpected, sucktacular turn. Let’s wrap it up.

In conclusion, nothing beats a gift from your child!

Uh, usually.

B, stop trolling me, and go to your room.

J, let’s go outside and see if Sam left you any more shiny beads.


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