Despite my short blogging career, I have been feeling fairly proud of myself lately for avoiding the trap that snares so many bloggers and would be humorists. No, not Pay-Per-Surf. The insidious curse I refer to is the tendency of parent-bloggers to fill their posts with a steady collection of cute kid anecdotes, compromising the stability of browser worldwide by the resulting sap overload.

Much like the company receptionist that corners you with pictures of her little darlings, many bloggers resort to a diary-like list of daily parenting adventures. For example:

It’s been a busy day here at ReallyFunnyCuteBlog. No sooner did I get the dog spayed, then little Joe Jr. regurgitated spam and Kool-Aid all over the new white suede couch, while little Tina shoved half a pack of Crayolas up her nose. Talk about parenting fun!!!

Actually, I think that might be a little bit better than most, but you get the idea.

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We interrupt this rant to bring you the following announcement in the interest of fairness and a roughly balanced approach to the subject at hand:

A really excellent example of quality writing and humor comes from professional mom and writer R.J. Light who consistently puts out good stuff at her blog A-muse-ing, containing just the right amount of cute kid stories.

We now return you to the previously schedules rant, still in progress:

—–

Call me a curmudgeon, but I was happy to wrap up that chapter of parenting fun several years ago. Our current chapter involves cars, driver’s licenses, and dating, which now that I think of it, actually make me nostalgic for the days of furniture barfing. But despite my own personal parenting hardships I am determined not to inflict my suffering upon the blog reading public.

Unless it’s really funny.

Which is why I have finally broken down and joined the club.

Perhaps you are wondering what it is that could warm the chilly cockles of my heart and fill a strict, no-sap content provider like myself with the glowing pride of a sideline-screaming soccer-mom.

How about coming home one day to see this:

I acknowledge a slight possibility of bias, but I think it’s the greatest thing since potted meat.

—–

If that wasn’t enough, a few weeks later I had a fairly typical conversation with my son. It went something like this:

My son: Hey dad, you know how they have trail mix?

Me: Sure, son.

My son: What if they made entrail mix?

The Diligent Parent, Deeply Concerned About the Cannibalistic Theme of His Son’s Suggestion (played by me): Now son, what you suggest… is simply …(quietly chuckling) well, it’s…(giggling in a manly fashion) It’s really funny. I would definitely buy it.

End of story? Not at my house.

And so now friends and neighbors, you can see why I rest easy at night, knowing that my genes are well represented in the world. Confident in the knowledge that the fruit of sheer nonsense never falls far enough from the tree. Why? Because those aren’t just kids, they’re funny kids, and they’re not just funny kids, they’re my funny kids.

I have the papers to prove it.

I am going to try to stop beaming now.



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