“It moved,” muttered George Costanza, the contemptible yet lovable Seinfeld character, in terror. He had been receiving a full-body massage from an objectively attractive male masseuse, and, well, “it” moved.

I suspect I don’t have to spell this one out. If you grew up with “it” between your legs, you know it has a mind of its own. It does what it wants when it wants and, for the most part, we are passengers on the “please no one notice” train.

The Seinfeld episode in question first aired in 1991. I would’ve been around 11 or so. This is a prime age for uncontrollable and inexplicable, ummmm, swellings. Around that time, I would’ve been begging dear sweet baby Jesus to protect me from the Devil’s hormones raging in my body. The all-too-tight khakis I had been forced to wear at church offered no protection. I was exposed. I could do my best Ron Burgundy “It’s the pleats” defense, but I had no pleats. Only a snug, flat fabric stretched across my crotch, waiting to advertise an untimely pitched tent.

Self-care or snake oil?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awkward about being touched, and since this Seinfeld episode, I have genuinely had a fear of massages. I feel compelled to report it had nothing to do with men or my sexuality, but it heightened my fear of accidental bulges – regardless of who or what may have been the cause. Now you understand why “it moved” has been a terrifying mantra bouncing in my brain for 30-plus years.

And so, at the age of 44, I finally had my first massage.

I tend to reject what’s new and popular. The self-care industry has become so full of snake oil and nonsensical claims, I barely pay attention. There’s an infinite supply of influencers and hucksters eager to prey upon our desperate desire to feel better. Through smiling, beautiful faces, they claim to care about us, when it mostly seems they only care about separating us from our money. Sadly, the preponderance of profit-obsessed businesses and products has made it hard to find the real people, the genuine healers, who truly devote themselves to helping others. This cacophony of profiteering has made it hard for me to believe there’s any value in taking care of myself. I’m a stay-at-home dad. My full-time job is caring for three (sometimes four) kids. Taking care of myself is low on my list of priorities.

After my hour-long massage, I’m questioning the ranking of my priorities.

Feeling bad normally is not normal

Let’s address the first fear: Did it move?

Yep. Sure did.

A man didn’t give me my massage, but that was never my fear. I was worried about making things awkward and weird because I’m awkward and weird – which is exhausting, by the way. But, although blood was certainly flowing, and I did feel pretty dang good, nothing untoward happened. In the words of Costanza, “I think it moved. I don’t know. … It was imperceptible, but I felt it. … It wasn’t a shift. I’ve shifted. This was a move!”

My face was covered by a towel. In the background, there was meditative music. I was doing guided breathwork. Periodically a deep breath would be filled with some exotic aroma. All the hippy woo-woo shit the old me would mock.

The new me? I’m weary of being afraid of everything. I’m tired of being the frowning skeptic closed off from everything and everyone. “No one touch me. No one hug me. Respect my giant, ‘Merica-sized bubble, dammit!” I’ve always confused intimacy and sensuality with sexuality, and it’s a shame our society seeks to continue this confusion. Feeling good isn’t bad, but we’ve all felt so bad for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves it’s normal.

As fathers, how has all that impacted our children?

Massage your parenting message

I don’t know about you fellow dads, but I don’t want my kids to feel bad. Ever. About anything. OK, maybe sometimes, like when I recently found tiny particles of “window crayons,” all over the house, but in general, I want my kids to feel great. Great about themselves. About their bodies. About feeling great. Why would I want anything else?

How can I make them feel great if my body is falling apart? How can I create a happy home if I’m tense, grumpy and in pain from being tense and grumpy? I want to be a better human so I can be the best dad I can be. I’m no longer going to reject some of the tools in the cosmic toolbox. [*Giggles* — tool!]

I’m not saying we all need to put on our tinfoil hats and stop getting measles vaccines. We should absolutely trust doctors and experts when appropriate, but they don’t deserve our blind allegiance – no ideology does. There’s a whole world of possibilities, and the only way to know what works, sometimes, is to give it a try. Imagine our hypocrisy when we frustratingly stare at a plate full of uneaten food we encouraged our kids to try while knowing we’ve rejected alternate solutions to our own problems because we didn’t have the courage to try.

While on the massage table, I felt transported into another realm. My recently departed mother and brother were there. They were laughing at me. It was ludicrous some silly episode of a 30-year-old show had isolated me from my fellow humans. They told me the only person standing between me and everything I ever wanted was me, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” They were right. And I think I realized I’m also standing between my kids and everything they may want, and I desperately don’t want to be that guy.

Be better today than you were yesterday

Did I REALLY travel to alternate dimensions? I hope so, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether I’m willing to be better today than I was yesterday. While I can’t pretend I’ll always be willing to make my physical and mental health a priority, viewing self-care as a service to my wife and kids puts a whole new spin on it.

So get a massage.

Go for a run.

Lift some weights.

Sprinkle some rosewater on your pillowcase.

Mediate and get a little dizzy trying to figure out some complex breathing technique.

Go stretch in a hot room and try not to fart.

Give it a try. It just might work.

If it doesn’t work, that’s OK too. At least you tried, and it’s probably your kid’s fault, anyway. It’s always the kid’s fault.              

Author’s note: During the writing of this piece, “it” did NOT move.

+ + +

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Massage photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

If you walk into my house during dinner or a movie night, you can tell my parenting style from where I sit. And there is a reason I sit where I do.

The house I grew up in was arranged like most houses during the 1970s and ’80s. Our living room showcased the hierarchy of the home. A couch and a loveseat lined up along the walls opposite one another while my father’s recliner received a direct view of the television. Sitting on the couch or loveseat meant you had to turn your head or body to watch TV.

My father’s chair always seemed silly to me, even though my sister and I would fight over it when he wasn’t around. It was silly that only one person could have the best view of the TV. It was silly that everyone huddled close together while one sat all alone.

In my house, a couch sits directly in front of the TV and a loveseat sits off to the side. There are no chairs. There are six people in my family, and we often squeeze together on the couch. Arms wrap around one another, legs cross in different directions, but we’re all on the same viewing page. If there was a chair, chances are it would be shared by two people.

The same goes for my seat at the dinner table. Growing up, my parents sat at both ends of the table, while my sister and I sat across from one another in the middle. We have a long rectangular table in our house today, but my seat is the same one I occupied as a child, right in the middle. In my seat, I am in the center of the action. Everything goes through me and around me. I am smack-dab in the middle of my family.

Fatherhood looks a lot different now than it did generations ago. Dads are stepping into the middle of their families, instead of watching from the top. Trickle-down parenting is on its way out while a more engaged and hands-on approach has taken its place. My seating arrangements may not be the way of the generations before me, but it is my way. My kids, wife and I sit (or stand) shoulder to shoulder – whether taking on tasks, being entertained, or simply just living.

And in this way, no one in my family is alone.

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad. Photo: jaredpolin via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Before I became a dad, I remember casually taking mental notes of the parenting methods used by my friends and family. Some things they did made sense. But there were other things I knew that, when I had children of my own, I would never do. And in some instances, I didn’t quite understand what their thinking was. 

Naturally, I just chalked the latter up to me “not getting it” because I didn’t have kids. 

In particular, whenever I would visit one cousin, I noticed she would immediately change the TV channel if the news came on when her young boys were in the room. To be honest, it was kind of annoying because, being a news junkie, I wanted to watch. After a few times of this happening, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked why she did it.

Her response was simple: she didn’t want her kids watching the news and seeing and hearing about some of the bad things going on in the world. Not yet at least. 

Logically it made sense. However, I wasn’t a parent then, so my brain heard that reasoning as “sheltering.” I even told my wife about it, confidently declaring those boys wouldn’t be ready for the “real world” as they got older. 

Little did I know that now, with a 4-year-old son and 17-month-old daughter, I’d be doing the same thing. If we’re all sitting around with the TV on and the news comes on, I grab the remote. I quickly flip over to the Disney Channel, YouTube or CoComelon. 

It’s funny how your outlook on life shifts once you become a parent.

Science on kids watching news

Unfortunately, in today’s age, most lead stories on the news are either related to violence, death, politics, vehicle accidents, or something bad going on with the weather. It’s very rare newscasts open with a “good” story. That’s not something I want the kids consuming. It took me becoming a parent to understand the importance of monitoring what they’re exposed to. It’s something I’m sure my cousin had to learn with her sons. And I learned from them.

Some research and children’s health professionals support this thinking.

A 2003 study published in the Annals of Clinical Psychiatry found that kids living within 100 miles of a terrorist attack (in this case, the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing and the 9/11 terrorist attacks) who spent a lot of time watching news coverage of the event reported more symptoms related to trauma. A 2020 article in American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry notes that research has shown children and adolescents are prone to “copycat” what they see and hear in the news.

“Chronic and persistent exposure to such violence can lead to fear, desensitization (numbing), and in some children an increase in aggressive and violent behaviors,” according to the AACAP article.

Preserving childhood innocence

The innocence of children is a breath of fresh air. It’s a welcome change of pace from the problems we adults deal with on a daily basis. As I watch my kids every day running around, playing and screaming without a care in the world, it’s devastating to me to know that they’ll be affected by what they see, hear and read on the news. Even worse, I’m frightened by what they may experience themselves when they’re out of my sight. 

But I know a day will come when my children realize every day is not games, snacks and laughter. They will encounter people who are mean and purposely try to hurt their feelings. And I will have to explain to them the realities of the world.

I want my son to think the world is this fun, magical world for as long as he can. I want my daughter to always giggle and smile like she does when we play “peek-a-boo.” Those are luxuries I wish I had as an adult. But as it goes with parenting, deciding when to expose your kids to watching the news and dealing with the subsequent conversations that will come when they start asking questions, is yet another thing I’ll have to face in fatherhood. 

Until then, we’ll just watch CoComelon over and over and over again.

More about children and the news

For more information on this subject, read:

• How to Talk to Your Child About the News, Nemours Kids Health
• Helping Your Child Cope with Media Coverage of Disasters: A Fact Sheet for Parents, University of Missouri/National Child Traumatic Stress Network
• Should you let your child watch the news?, Superpower Kids
• What to Tell Your Children about School Shootings, Center for Parent and Teen Communication

Photo: © Vadim / Adobe Stock.

One of the ongoing debates among parents is how to regulate a child’s screen time, often with moms, dads and “experts” lending their ideas on what restrictions to set. This gets evermore tricky with the increasing number of available devices (televisions, computers, tablets, cell phones) and their mobility allowing them to be viewed not only at home but almost everywhere at any time.

The American Academy of Pediatrics discourages most screen time for children under age 6 and, after that, it calls for encouraging “healthy habits” that include limits on when and where screens can be used. The problem is, as The Mayo Clinic notes, “As your child grows, a one-size-fits-all approach doesn’t work as well. You’ll need to decide how much media to let your child use each day and what’s appropriate.”

Clearly, no right or wrong answer exists. Parents must do what they feel is best for their child in a given circumstance. In our house we’ve adopted a perspective that somewhat goes against the norm: We have no restrictions on our children’s screen time.

Our reasons for unlimited screen time

Here are some of the main reasons we use this approach, and some of our personal results:

1. We believe rationing a child’s screen time leads to dependency, even a sort of addiction. Living in a state of constant fear or anxiety that something we enjoy could be taken away often leads to an all-consuming obsession with that thing whenever we have it.
2. We don’t put devices on a pedestal. As they’re constantly and readily available for our children, our kids don’t view devices as anything special. More often than not, our two children will choose to play with toys, color or read a book over using their tablets. Since they’ve grown accustomed to them always being there, there’s never been a need to have them at all times.
3. We don’t allow an entirely free range of use when it comes to devices. Both our children’s tablets are governed by parental controls (they’re Android, and we utilize the Family Link app). We also moderate the content they’re allowed to watch so that anything they might see has already been pre-approved.

Admittedly, this approach hasn’t been entirely without issues. However, in talking to multiple other parents with a more “traditional” approach, I realized our family has had fewer arguments and complaints about devices and those we have had have been much less severe.

This approach has also allowed us to effectively “steer into the skid” in terms of how technology is being used for educational purposes. Our son is in kindergarten and like many kids, his school assigned him an iPad for classwork. Utilizing technology will become more and more prevalent as the years go by, and as parents, we want to make sure we’ve done everything possible to nurture a positive and healthy relationship between our children and their devices.

No restrictions on screen time photo: © Brocreative / Adobe Stock.

There are no real rules to parenting. Well, there are some very basic rules like you must feed the kids and make sure they don’t look like a hobo catching the rail from Cleveland. But overall, you can parent any way you want. 

I have decided to parent like I’m in an action movie. 

“Must. Get. The. AHH!” My scream shatters glass. Twilight shards twinkle down on me.

“Dad?” my 5-year-old says.

“Son! Son!” I reach out my hand. “The couch won’t let me go; can’t let me go. No, it’s too late for me. Save yourself, son!” 

“Here, Dad,” he says as he hands me the TV remote. And there, just like a good action movie, the story arc is complete.

See, I couldn’t just get up off of the couch to get the remote. Where is the struggle? What did I have to sacrifice? Where is the drama?

Now I have some rules. Action Movie Rules.

Every struggle becomes sequel material

In the sequel to Get Off The Couch, the toy skitters across the hardwood floor. I inch my way forward in an army crawl. What is the toy? Why do I want it so much? What’s at stake?

It’s the toy to stop the mother of all toddler meltdowns.

So I belly crawl. The boy jumps on my back, uses my pants legs as a rope ladder, and tries to gouge out my eyeballs with his thumbs. There is a struggle. Good vs. Evil. Morally ambiguous motives fight righteousness that is confusing and complex. It is a battle that happens one plot point at a time.

Of course, I could just stand up and walk to the toy. But when do you see that in an action movie? No, it’s always the belly crawl when the object (usually the Holy Grail or a detonator) is 20 feet away. That’s Action Movie Rules. 

There are thousands of parenting books out there. Oddly, most of them now have the word “fuck” in the title. They have rules, but most are not connected to the real world or are painfully obvious. “Make sure your children eat in the morning!” Well, no shit. A lot of those books give advice that is completely useless like “when traveling by yacht, make sure the toddler is polite to the help.” Who actually parents on a yacht? That’s what the help is for. 

Breaking out the ninja moves

“I can’t believe it!” I yell at my daughter in the movie that completes the trilogy. “You betrayed me! My kin. You have gone against the family.”

My teenager stands motionless. Sweat drips off her brow. In her hand, she holds the last of the bean dip. A Frito hovers just over the lip of the can. The confused look on her face at my action movie setup monologue is the only opening I need. Against all hope, I charge. 

With a sweet ninja move I saw on the Netflix original Punisher, my hand locks onto her wrist. I use my legs as leverage and twist. The tables have turned! Now, I have the bean dip. 

“What the hell was that?” she asks. It’s cool, teenagers are allowed to almost swear in action movies. Just enough to let the viewer know that they are edgy and independent. 

“Justice,” I say, and my finger scrapes out the last bit of my prize, forever denying its sweet and chalky taste to the villain.

Everything looks great when it’s choreographed. But in real life, when things go south, the ultimate truth is that no parent knows what they are doing. We are all winging it, and we just edit the stories in post-production. 

In action movies, paper-thin metal filing cabinets can stop an AK-47 for some reason. Explosives are so simple that a 10-year-old can rig Nakatomi Tower to blow. Everyone can sprint. And most importantly, if you have a franchise, you can always come back when you are older for a surprise reimagining.

If only Action Movie Rules really ruled

From the top of the stairs I do a badass double flip and somehow don’t over-rotate. Not bad for a mid-40s washed-up action father. Something is wrong, though. Something is off. How do I know? Action Movie Rules: The hero always knows to go with his gut when something feels “off.” 

I hear it; a slight click. Without explanation, I run to the living room dodging several glass panes being carried by extras, and a guy pulling a tourist in a rickshaw. Action Movie Rules: Nothing has to make sense. 

I must make it to the thermostat. There is no time! I help an orphan on the way, have an emotional connection with him, and now he is my ward. 

I see the light spark on my Nest Smart Thermostat. It has gained awareness. Now we are parenting by Sci-Fi Action Movie Rules. That click I heard before was the furnace warming up. If I can make it, if only I can make it, I can stop the evil machine overlord from coming on and warming the house up from 69 to 70. The orphan gets kidnapped. I vow to come back for him. 

I strap into my exoskeleton suit and light a blow torch because that makes things look more industrial and gritty. I reach my hand out while a disembodied voice counts down.

Three.

Two.

One.

I turn the thermostat off, and the furnace shudders. I go back and save the orphan, which turns out was always my 10-year-old son. 

“That was close, Dad!” he says. 

“Yeah. Too close. But you know what they always say …”

“What, Dad?”

“It’s never close when you believe in yourself, even when the world don’t.”

BOOM! There is my tagline. The bad grammar will connect with the masses, and I’ll go viral. 

“You’re the best, Dad!”

“Yes, I am.” My words are slurred because somewhere between the first movie and the remake, I had a stroke. “Now let’s go home so I can have sex with your mom.”

A version of this first appeared on Hossman At-Home. Photo: © ra2 studio / Adobe Stock.

The string of celebrity deaths that started this year affected me, as a parent, more than they usually do. 

The seemingly ageless Betty White, weeks from her 100^th birthday.

Less than a week later, we lost legendary and groundbreaking screen actor Sidney Poitier.

Then came beloved TV dad and standup legend Bob Saget.

I always mourn the loss of life no matter what the person’s age. However, these three in particular made me very introspective about my own mortality and life.

I only saw a handful of movies by Sidney Poitier, but I knew he was pioneer for Black actors. He paved the way for many people of color in an industry that had long regulated them to roles like servants or uneducated punch lines. Poitier did so by taking on roles where he showed himself to be smart, eloquent and as fierce as they come. The ambitious son in A Raisin in the Sun. The compassionate but no-nonsense teacher in To Sir, With Love. So many more. He will always be considered one of the greatest actors ever. 

And I can tell you, with all honesty, that being Black and having the last name Gibbs, I often re-wrote his famous quote from In The Heat of The Night to my own benefit. However, the impact of introducing myself by authoritatively saying, “THEY CALL ME, MR. GIBBS!” goes directly over the heads of elementary school children I substitute teach.

Prime time parenting lessons learned

Betty White and Bob Saget were different. I watched them weekly growing up as part of my Friday and Saturday evening TV routine with my parents. Those nights included watching many now classic feel-good family shows like Family Matters, Amen, 227, Perfect Strangers and Empty Nest. Those prime time family shows shaped my youth. Several showed strong Black families with educated and hardworking parents like mine. Seeing those people on screen, as well as IRL in my home, let me know I too could achieve that.

But those prime time memories of being on the couch watching Golden Girls and Full House remain my fondest. I remember laughing with my mom at the crazy stories of Betty White’s “Rose” told about her hometown of St. Olaf. I clearly recall the goofy-yet-knowing smile creeping across the face of Bob Saget’s loveable “Danny Tanner” as he taught his girls right from wrong. (Later in life, I gained a newfound appreciation for Saget’s acting skills. This was when he revealed himself to be closer to the raunchy Redd Foxx than squeaky clean Jim Gaffigan in his standup act and post-Full House movie appearances.)

This is all to note that we no longer live in that age. “Must See TV” night and appointment television are gone. We can binge-watch an entire season of a show in a less than a day then move onto another. And, as parents with increasing responsibilities, it easier to plop your kids alone in front of the TV so you can take a break time rather than share family time. 

But I would challenge you to do something a bit different next time your kids want to watch The Thundermans or Family Reunion or even SpongeBob SquarePants:  WATCH IT WITH THEM.

Make TV time a learning time

You may think these shows are for kids and harmless. However, every once in a while, sit down and watch in right along with them. You may roll your eyes at the predictable stories line, overacting and terrible jokes (not all the different from shows of our youth, am I right), but put them in context. Adults write these shows. Many have adult concepts and mature themes slipped in that your kids might have questions about. They may also promote bad habits that are often dismissed by well-placed laugh track.

This is not to say that these shows are sinister, but they also should not be seen as babysitters. Make more attempts to watch your kids’ shows with them and when the credits start to roll, ask questions.

What happened in the show? What themes and lessons emerged? Do they have questions about what they where watching? Did anything words or actions need explaining? While binge watching can be fun, taking time in between shows to find some tangible takeaways they can grown on can be valuable.

These can be something as simple as how to be nicer to your siblings. These could be more complex, such as how to deal with the death of a loved one. Watching Golden Girls as a child really helped me see the value in long-lasting friendships (and how amazing cheesecake can be). Amen, for example, showed me the power of faith, a trend continued in the Family Reunion on Netflix. Full House showed a single dad trying to be a great example to his kids. 

So, make that TV time with your kids impactful and active. Your kids will be better for it because you showed interest in something they like. It might be a somewhat out of your comfort zone, but you will be a better parent because you will get what make your kids laugh, what makes them cry and maybe a little bit more about makes them tick.

Prime time parenting photo: ©Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

An old-fashioned family Thanksgiving, in all its festive splendor and pageantry, will soon be upon us as will all the relatives you have been blocking on Facebook since the 2020 presidential campaign. Thanks, vaccinations and unplanned natural immunity!

If there was ever a Thanksgiving to hide the silverware, this might be it. Oh, America – wondrous country of purple mountains majesty and amber traffic lights we routinely run – how could you be ingenious enough to invent pizza-stuffed pizza crusts yet be unable to guarantee us all a safe space around the family dining table every fourth Thursday in November?

So before we sit down to stuff ourselves silly on dead beast and bloated opinions about critical race theory, let’s set some ground rules for a less contentious family Thanksgiving:

• As previously mentioned, stow the silverware, preferably under lock and key. This includes all carving devices. No plastic cutlery or breakable ceramic dishware, either. Cook and slice everything before family arrives. Serve up nothing but the softest of finger foods on damp paper towels. Two words the kids will love to hear: dippin’ gravy.

• Glassware can shatter and create sharp edges, perfect for making a point about mask mandates. So lock them away for the day along with opinions on Marjorie Taylor Greene and Dr. Fauci.

• Don’t even think about serving alcohol. This year, it’s nothing but tap water in waxed paper cups. This will make our delicate ears less likely to endure unsavory conspiracy theory rants about space lasers and the antiviral powers of horse dewormer in humans.

• Place family members with opposing viewpoints on opposite ends of the table. As a buffer, seat the kids in the between. If you need even more buffer space, add inflatable yard decorations.

• Avoid holiday table decorations that may instigate heated historical discussions by referencing any of the following: pilgrims, indigenous peoples or the Dallas Cowboys.

• In addition to eschewing political and medical discussions, avoid the other usual topics that create divisive feelings among family members: religion, sex and the New England Patriots.

• Speaking of football, just avoid the day’s games lest a fight starts over players kneeling for the National Anthem.

• Skip the pre-meal blessing to avoid someone being tempted to take a knee during it.

• What to do for entertainment without football? Stick with the mind-numbing balloon banter and lip-synching banality of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Chase with repeated viewings of The National Dog Show because who doesn’t love a prancing Lhasa Apso?

• If you pursue that last route, don’t invite over your third cousin, the crazy cat lady.

• Just skip the TV altogether. Take a long family walk to burn off those excess calories and pent-up rages about “patriotism versus insurrection.” Caution: Scour the course beforehand to make sure it doesn’t venture past any health clinics, gun shops or Chick-fil-A stores.

• In case none of these measures helped, conclude the gathering by setting a generous slice of pie in front of the most objectionable attendee. Top with a heaping amount of whipped cream. Then smash it directly into the idiot’s face.

Family Thanksgiving argument photo: ©Monkey Business / Adobe Stock.

If you have young children, chances are you’ve at least heard of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s animated show Bluey (it’s on the Disney channels in the United States). This isn’t a show to simply entertain the kids, and it’s not some fad. It’s a show about parenting, written by a dad, produced by a different dad, and with a main character who is a stay-at-home dad character we should all strive to like.

Set on the outskirts of Brisbane, the show’s characters are all dogs, and the central family is the Heelers. The father, Bandit Heeler, is the primary caregiver. He’s a part-time archeologist (a dog who digs bones, get it?) but the only work we ever see is his main job: raising his two daughters: 6-year-old Bluey and 4-year-old Bingo. Bandit’s wife, Chili, completes the family, and is often privy to their crazy games. Even their adult neighbor, Lucky’s Dad, goes along with the fun.

But this isn’t just a silly kids show. Each episode is only eight minutes (there are more than 100 so far), yet in a mere eight minutes, you’ll see positive values, universal truths and the importance of imaginative play. To do all this and still appeal to infants, adults and every age between is impressive.

Bluey is full of humor and heart, but it’s also deep. In the episode “Copycat,” Bluey deals with learning about death by mimicking her parents. In “Grandad,” we see Chili begging her older dad to slow down, and how time passes differently for grandparents.

“I’m not taking advice from a cartoon dog!” proclaims Bandit, during the episode “Flat Pack.” But that’s exactly what we, as dads should do. Bandit’s real. And a refreshing change. He’s not the buffoon dad (a trope still in use in, from cartoons like Peppa Pig through adult sitcoms like Modern Family), or the absentee dad (another trope). And despite the wholesome feel, the show is pure fun. It’s not the “after-school special” feeling you’ll get from an episode of Daniel Tiger or Sesame Street.

Bandit, who was even named (canine) Father of Year in Australia in 2020, always puts his kids first, sometimes by letting them solve their own problems. When Bluey wants to quit riding a bike (in “Bike”) he doesn’t stop her or argue. He says “OK,” but then encourages her to watch all her friends persevering at other things, until Bluey gets on the bike again herself. Bandit is also a dad who ALWAYS plays games with his kids. The kids don’t leave him alone when he has to use the bathroom. The car is littered with food and toys. There’s always laundry and there are times he’s too tired to get up. In “Mount MumandDad,” the parents are so exhausted they can’t move, but still they play. In “Daddy Drop-Off,” Bandit doesn’t want to play because he’s running late, but he still plays. There is always time for play and for fun.

In fact, every episode is a new, imaginative, fully interactive game. Not just games to watch, but games my kids love to play with me now. Games to play with your kids. Yeah, it’s tiring. I’m not sure how Bandit is always so animated. Maybe it’s because he’s a cartoon. But it’s worth it.

Best of ‘Bluey’

Even if you don’t have young kids, you should still watch. In fact, this is the only show I enjoy watching without the kids. (Rolling Stone magazine listed it in its Top 100 sitcoms of all time earlier this year.) It’s that fun. If you’re a Dad wondering where to start, here’s my top seven episode recommendations (all can be streamed on Disney+) for dads, and why:

1. “Café” – This is one of the episodes that hits home to me. Bandit and Bluey meet a new dad and his daughter at the playground. The kids are instant friends. But the dads … well, sometimes it takes adults longer to make friends than it takes kids.
2. “Daddy Drop Off” – Bandit’s running late dropping the kids at school. He doesn’t want to keep playing but does. And we see that choosing to play matters, not just to Bandit’s kids, but to others.
3. “Baby Race” – All right, this is a mom-focused episode, but we all remember the struggles of when the kids were growing up and ‘competing’ with other parents over which kid walked first, etc.
4. “Fancy Restaurant” – One thing I think all parents struggle with, especially with little kids, is finding time for our relationship to our spouse, when our lives are dominated by the kids. Bandit admits he’s “forgotten how to romance” in this charming, fun episode.
5. “Takeaway” – Yeah, kids get bored. Yeah, life happens. Sometimes it all just goes downhill. But if you can laugh about it …
6. “Octopus” – Playing nonstop games isn’t for everyone. Heck, I’ve three decades of theater and improv training and still find these games exhausting. In this episode, Chloe (a friend of Bluey’s) has a dad who feels like he can’t play the way Bandit does, but he still wants his daughter to have fun. It’s okay to play differently.
7. “The Dump” – On a trip to the dump, Bluey and Bingo question if their dad is really the best in the world. It’s okay to not be perfect. 

Beyond just the episodes, I really try to get into the games shown. “Magic Xylophone” may be the simplest Bluey game. A ding (which can even just be someone saying “ding”) makes everyone else freeze. Pretty simple. Or “Shadowlands,” where the shadows are land and the sunlit patches are water. Kids have limitless imaginations. Everything can be a game, and kids learn best through play.

Bandit won’t take advice from a cartoon dog. But we should. It’s OK to be goofy. It’s OK to be a little crazy. It’s OK to teach through pure fun. As the Aussies say: wackadoo!

About the author

Chris Mannino lives with his wife and two children. As a full-time stay-at-home dad, he considers himself a lion tamer, cat herder, sanitation manager, personal chef, private teacher and more. Somehow, he also manages to squeeze in a writing career: crafting fantasy stories from picture books through adult. Visit him at www.ChristopherMannino.com

“Dad, I don’t like Star Trek,” my son said to me.

And right there, at that exact moment, is the moment my heart shriveled up, and the world became a cold dark place.

“You are dead to me,” I told my son.

I turned away trying to hold back tears. I buried myself in my work; making his lunch so that my traitor of a son could have something to eat today besides his father’s disappointment.

“It’s boring, dad,” he said.

Boring? Star Trek is boring? Motherfucking Captain Kirk boring? This is blasphemy.

“Minecraft is boring,” I said.

I usually add three pieces of salami to his lunch sandwich. This time I only added one and didn’t put on any cheese. Cheese is for Captain Kirk people.

“Minecraft isn’t boring,” he said. He threw a bag of chips next to his lunch bag. It skidded over the countertop and tumbled to the floor.  I hope the dog eats them. “And besides,” he added. “I don’t like Minecraft right now.”

At some point, I messed up being a father. I don’t know where, and I don’t know when. I thought I was doing OK. I’m all right, yeah? I gave up a career to guide these little buttholes into adulthood. I was middle management. I arranged a lot of very important papers, and I had an office. What’s next? Is my almost-12-year-old daughter going to tell me that she wants to change her name to Magenta and dance her way through college? I am a failure.

My son put his hand on my shoulder, and I tried to hide that it was shaking. Inhale, exhale – let the pain bleed off of you. Don’t show how hurt you are.

“Star Wars is way better,” he said.

He’s 10 years old, and this is what he has figured out in life. Star Wars is better than Trek. I gasped and I put his sandwich into a sandwich bag. I did not cut off the crust.

What got us through? Let me tell you, Star Trek: The Next Generation!

“What about Jean-Luc Picard?” I asked him. “What about Worf and Data? What about Riker and his beard?”

I pushed his hand off me. That hand feels fraudulent; like something foreign and fake. It’s not a sign of love. He’s trying to ease the blow. We are a Star Trek family. We have always been a Star Trek family.

“I don’t know who those people are,” he said.

“What! What!” I said, letting all the emotion out. I can no longer hold it in. “You were raised on Star Trek. Trek! At your 3 a.m. feedings, who do you think did that? Me, that’s who!”

Let it out. Let it all out.

“And what do you think we watched? What show got us through all those hard times? Let me tell you, The Next Generation. That’s what got us through it. That is what kept us sane.”

My boy takes a step away from me, and I see his face fall. A sigh escapes him. He looks at me and I see what he is thinking. He thinks that I am a lost cause. I am an old man that has gone senile. He’s wrong. I’m right. I am not crazy. I know who I am. It is he who is senile. He has forgotten where he came from.

“Dad …” he begins. I don’t let him finish.

“And when you were sick, when you were young, we sat on the couch together and watched the original episodes. Hell, boy, we even made it through Deep Space Nine together! Deep Space Nine! I know it’s awful, but we made it!”

“It’s boring, dad! Boring!”

“It’s not boring! It’s the ultimate dream of all of humanity!”

I finish packing his lunch, and I don’t zip up in the bag. I throw it at his chest. I can’t even look at him now. The boy has a smile on his face. A smile. Where did I go wrong?

My daughter walks in. She’s oblivious to the tension in the room because it has nothing to do with her phone.

“Hey, Dad,” she asked. I am grateful for the distraction. My daughter, my first born, she’s a good girl. She loves her father.

“Yeah, baby,” I said.

“Who’s playing in the Super Bowl?”

“Why?” I said.

“One of my friends asked, and she wants to get together for a party to watch it.”

“The Eagles and the Pats. We hate them both but especially the Eagles. All Cowboy fans hate the Eagles.”

“Dad, I don’t like the Cowboys.”

I am a complete and utter failure as a father.

A version of this first appeared on Hossman At-Home.

You know Father’s Day is near when you see members of our City Dads Groups across the nation popping up all over your TV screens and social media feeds. And 2018 was no exception to the rule.

Our biggest appearance came on Father’s Day 2018 itself. City Dads Group co-founder Lance Somerfeld joined CBS Sunday Morning correspondent Mo Rocca on a segment discussing how the “dad look” is fashionably hip (as if we didn’t know).

He forgot to tell Rocca to — please — don’t believe the fanny pack hype. Or that dads would blow $1,000 on butt-ugly Gucci sneakers. We like our butt-ugly at bargain prices.

Father’s Day 2018 also saw the opening of Incredibles 2, which received some hype for superhero Mr. Incredible becoming a stay-at-home dad. That brought the media to our door. Several of our members, including NYC Dads Group member Andrew Bentley, are quoted in a story on Refinery29 about being real-life superheroes.

“Superheroes represent our aspirations, individually and collectively. They have the abilities we want. They have the ambition. The empathy. All of those things that they’re able to influence the world in ways that we would like,” Bentley says in the story. “So when we see Mr. Incredible take a step back and say, ‘I’m going to take care of this kid and allow my wife to go off and pursue her career,’ if he can do it, anyone can do it.”

A playground play date between two of our Dallas Dad Group members and their children is also used to illustrate the link between being an at-home father and a superhero. Way to save the day, Adam Hill and Trevor Stamp:

“There’s no manual or guide on how to be a parent,” Gutierrez is quoted as saying. “I think [this group] has taught me a lot about myself, and I realized that I had to make a lot of changes. I was very much focused on my career because that’s what society expected me to do. Now, being more open with a community that has supportive fathers and environments like the City Dads’ network, I’ve been able to find other dads out there trying to do the same thing. It’s OK not to be so focused on my career. I can be balanced on my career and family and travels and make my life what I want it to be.”

Brock Lusch, co-organizer of our Cincinnati Dads Group, had the lead quote in the Refinery29 story and then took the spotlight in a local TV news interview to discuss what our social and support network does for fathers.

Brandon Billinger and Tucker Smith of the Kansas City Dads Group did a similar interview for one of their local TV news programs.

Finally, Darrell Humphrey of Charlotte Dads Group dispelled some of the common misconceptions about fathers caring for their kids as well as promoting his chapter in a one-on-one with a local TV news anchor.