While reading her Cinderella, our 3½ yo daughter asked me to dance. I’m ashamed to say my first thought was, “I’m too tired to dance with you tonight.”

We’re planning our first family vacation with our daughter who will be 4 years old. How do you stay in the same room, and still do naps and sleep at night?

It turns out, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience! My head did not explode nor my brains turn to jelly. Here’s is a simple survival tip for other dads…

Yes, I’m a dad and I’m about to talk about breastfeeding! Actually that’s the point of this blog. We don’t talk about it enough. I wish someone had talked to me.

What if you received a letter from your child… a letter written in the future? What if you didn’t like what it said? What if there was still time to fix it?

Too often parents suffer in silence after a miscarriage, believing they are alone, feeling perhaps somehow it was their fault. It’s time for the silence to end.

The handsome prince leaves you with 3 little prince & princesses to feed and an underwater mortgage on the castle? How does Disney prepare our girls for that?

I read someplace recently that the phenomenon that is the “mommy blog” has not taken off in the same way for “daddy bloggers” because men would not use such a demeaning way of labeling their work. Apparently there are those who believe that “mommy” and “daddy” are somehow inferior, less respectful, less respectable ways of being addressed. I don’t agree.

Let’s daydream for a moment of summer; the summer ahead and the hazy memories of our childhood summers past. Oh, and I’ll tell you a tale of THE AMAZING THING!

You girls know the things we guys should never wear, but some of you are too nice to tell us. You’re not doing yourself or us a favor by keeping it secret.

There are certain times and life events during which the absence of loved ones is most acutely felt. Thanksgiving, Christmas and the birth of a child I’ve found rank high among these. So at this joyous time of year, please indulge me a brief sad moment.

Or at least they should. Let me explain. It was brought to my attention by my loving wife and also by at least one commenter on my recent blog: 6 Ways to be a Better Dad (aka: “Stop and Smell the Diapers”) that I had left something important off my list. So, here is the seventh missing guideline on how to be a better dad: HAVE FUN!

Stop and smell the diapers. Just a few suggestions from one dad to another on making the most of the most important years of our lives and those of our kids. And just to be clear, I’m writing this not because I think I’m such a great dad or because I know or do it all right. Nope, I’m writing it as a reminder to myself of a few of the things I need to focus on every day to be just a bit better as a father.

Many, many years ago in a land far, far away… well, in Florida… a baby boy was born on this day. My father who took this photograph of my mother and me, passed away before he was able to meet his beautiful grand-daughter. If he can still see us, then this morning he saw my barely two year old girl sing… really sing… “happy birthday to you” to her daddy.

I’ve been thinking for some time about buying a new car, and being a father has changed the way I think about transportation. When I was born my father traded in his sexy two seat convertible for a wood-paneled Ford station-wagon. So what choices are available to the modern dad? Let’s look at some of the options…

I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I’m going to have to hand in my fuddy-duddy credentials? I watched the Katy Perry and Elmo music clip that caused a bit stir today. It was pulled from the upcoming Sesame Street season after it drew complaints from parents. I hate to say it, but honestly I don’t see what the big deal is. No, that’s not a cleavage joke.

The walk about which I am writing doesn’t concern the film of that name, though both are love stories. The walk I’m writing about is a trip down the isle of a church that my wife and I took four years ago today. And really I’m writing of a journey… about the independent paths we walked alone to get to that wedding, and the walk we’ve taken hand in hand ever since.