Nine-year-old Anna likes dance parties, having her hair done by my teenage daughter, and wearing a necklace full of her enemy’s tongues. As Dungeons & Dragons warriors go, she is a sweet little pixie that you don’t want to mess with. She also helps her father grow vegetables for those less fortunate than herself.

I introduced my kids and their friends to D&D during the pandemic. Their fathers are all part of our Kansas City Dads Group so many have known each other since birth. We’ve had a lot of adventures together during the last 15 years, but lockdown might have been the most challenging. I rely on my dads a great deal, and it was hard to be away from them for so long. My own kids felt the same. I realized it was as though they didn’t get to see their brothers and sisters anymore.

Trying to find a way to make Zoom meetups fun and interesting, I dug out my old Dungeons & Dragons books from the ’80s, bought some dice and figurines, and gave it a shot. Three years later, my little murder hobos have kicked me out of their D&D campaigns and now rampage through the imaginary lands without me.

I’m one proud dad.

A memory three years in the making

In the beginning, our “littles” had the attention span of barbarian goldfish. The group called them the Pixies, and they had special powers. When your need was great, you could summon a pixie to add an extra roll of the dice. The teenagers of the group used them with ruthless efficiency in big boss fights. Victory was snatched from the will of mind flayers and gelatinous cubes. When in doubt, call in a pixie.

The rest of our Dungeons & Dragons troops, which ranged in age from 12 to 15, often battle planned around the availability of the pixies. They took to my initial campaign with vigor, although not with the tactics I had hoped. For example, they hated talking and bargaining. Why bargain when you have a barbarian with an 18 Armor Class and a short temper? After a few sessions, it was clear that I could no longer lead them into innocent villages. My little imaginary townspeople were running out of tongues.

Eventually, the quarantine ended, and we had the final epic battle together. It took three hours, multiple visits from unpredictable pixies, and a lucky roll by a rogue — but the final boss was beaten. I thought they were done, and that it was a memory that made the pandemic a little bit better.

The next day the kids were setting up meetings on their own. 

They started collecting dice and putting D&D books on their Christmas lists. They invested in spell cards, studied lore and rules, and took turns being the Dungeon Master. And when they were done, I would get to hear the epic battles and the impossible dice rolls. Sitting from my chair in the living room, I could hear them debate a tricky section of the rules. And they did it all on their own, my little harbingers of doom.

I witnessed firsthand how they learned to cooperate, problem-solve, and use analytical thinking. They asked me to explain plot points and inciting incidents. I heard the stories that they crafted and they blew me away. To see all of this happen was amazing to me, and more than I could have hoped for in the beginning.

From tabletop to the big screen

The minute the D&D movie — Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves — was announced, I knew I had to take them.

I bought movie tickets and worked out all the details with their dads. How could I not? I introduced a hobby during a low point in all our lives in hopes that it would provide them with the connection they needed. The other dads and I joined in during those first early games as either a hapless wizard, a sly bard, or even role-playing an NPC to make this all happen. Honestly, I thought they would quit as soon as the pandemic was over. But to my joy, they kept playing.

I’m going to spoil them with popcorn, candy, and new sets of dice. We are going to cheer on the good guys, boo the bad guys, and probably secretly love the ones that are a little bit of both. For me, this is the culmination of that first campaign, when a little pixie asked if she could cut off the butt of a fallen monster.

“Um,” I said.

“I cut off his butt!” The pixies cheered, and the rest of the group laughed.

“OK,” I said.

“And I put it on my necklace!”

“Yeah, I think that is too much. Let’s not tell your mother about this.”

Often, I think about the long-term consequences of being a father. The actions that we take ripple out into the future, and sometimes mean more than we intend them to. An innocent act that can grow over years and transform into a core memory that they will keep for the rest of their lives. It occurs to me that a lot of my parenting wins are the result of me stumbling in the right direction.

Which is fine, as long as I can call upon a pixie to save the day.

Dungeons & Dragons photo: © EGinvent / Adobe Stock.

EDITOR’S NOTE: City Dads Group is working with longtime partner Dove Men+Care to create “how to” videos for the grooming products company’s “Dads Care” campaign. We will be featuring the videos and scripts our members appear in. This one features Drew Bennett of our Boston Dads Group, with a little help from his son, Andy, talking about how to help kids stay physically active. https://www.youtube.com/embed/5BechfYINwI

When the COVID-19 quarantine happened, I became the de facto phys ed teacher for our family, tasked with keeping us healthy and physically active. Here’s three important tips if you find yourself in the same role or just want to get every one away from their screens and moving again.

Be consistent

Make sure that every day or every other day you are doing something. Let your children  know that some sort of physical activity is on the schedule, and that we’re doing it no matter what.

Andy and I go for a walk every morning. It helps get our day going with a little energy. We also take martial arts classes twice a week via Zoom. We make sure we do those classes at the same time so we having something to look forward to on a regular, consistent basis.

Turn a game into a physical activity and vice versa

We set up in our backyard something that that we use for a game in order to try some different physical activities. For example, we make challenges out of things like push-ups or high knees or jumping in and out of boxes. We took some chalk and turned our walkway into

a kind of ladder with different colored squares (you can also do this if you have a real ladder you can lay on the ground). You can decide that every square you step in requires a different activity, like doing high knees in one and jumping jacks in another, or just have your kids run in and outs through every square.

Make it a challenge

Here’s an example of how we get two things done at once. Matching up socks from the laundry is a chore, right? Not if you challenge your child to see who can match them up faster. For every pair of socks, I match Andy has to do a push-up. For every pair he matches, I have to do a push-up. We go until we finish all of the socks — it’s a fun and physically active way to complete a not-so-fun task.

Physically active children photo: © anekoho / Adobe Stock.

I loved playing video games while growing up, but my dad was never into them. Instead, we would usually play board games like checkers or backgammon together. On occasion, when we would visit relatives in Queens, N.Y., we’d break out group games like Monopoly and Trouble. One fateful evening when I was around 10 or 11 years old, we played a very memorable round of the block tower building game, Jenga.

Jenga can be just as riveting to observe as it is to play: Watching others carefully choose the right or wrong block and edge toward a rousing victory or an embarrassing defeat that ends in a pile of rectangular-shaped rubble. During one game, my dad’s turn came up and there were not many moves he could make without the entire tower tumbling over. After about a minute of intense contemplation, he finally picked his block. He carefully removed it from the middle of the stack and placed it on the top of the tower, which swayed, but did not fall. Feeling victorious, he gave himself a high five (yes, that happened) and walked away to bask in his glory while the next player tempted fate on the wobbling structure. The problem was, my dad’s foot accidentally caught the leg of the table. He shook it just enough to knock the entire tower over, despite all the hard work he had put into making the right move. We all roared with laughter as he cried out at his premature celebration.

Why this childhood story? Well, if you have ever played Jenga, you know the setup can be the key to a good game. If you set up the blocks nicely and straight the game can go on for a very long time with proper moves and strategy. Set them up misaligned and unevenly, the tower will fall after only a few rounds. But no matter what you do, no matter how well you plan, you cannot prepare for a stray foot that takes down the tower.

With school starting or already in session during this COVID-19 pandemic, it feels like we are living out the worst game of Jenga.

Some of us live in areas going above and beyond to keep kids and teachers safe; others are in places doing the bare minimum and asking parents to just trust them. As parents, we need to be prepared for the foot that kicks the table no matter what method of schooling our children receive. Every day will bring new challenges and crises, and I believe we can do some essential things that will get us through this with our wits intact and our kids engaged and educated.

Be supportive

A key to surviving, mentally and physically, during this epidemic relies on supporting one another. Checking in with other parents and guardians regularly, even the parents who appear to be breezing through this experience — more than likely, they are struggling like you are. People are already worried about what option works best for their own situation, and once school is fully in session and parents are balancing remote learning and having a full-time job, their stress and anxiety levels will likely increase.

Be honest

This situation sucks for everyone. Parents and guardians are overwhelmed. Our kids are losing out on valuable education and the social interaction that is a key part of the learning process. However, I think the only way we get through this is by being honest and transparent with one another. If you need help, ask for it. If you see someone else needing help, offer it or suggest resources they might find helpful.

Be resourceful

The first few weeks into quarantine/lockdown, I realized my five years of being a stay-at-home dad gave me an advantage not all parents have. I did not have to balance working from home for an employer and getting my kids to sit through hours of Zoom video calls as others did. I already had experience teaching my kids basic lessons and doing fun activities to keep them occupied throughout the day. But as tough as this fall will be for all of us, this is really our second time going through it. That means many of us have developed a new set of skills that can help us this time around. We learned what works well with our kids and what doesn’t. If we learn from those successes and failures, this autumn will hopefully be less traumatic than spring.

Be a friend

If you know someone who needs access to WiFi, see if you can make yours available to them. Have a few extra math or grammar workbooks that might help a student understand their homework better? Offer them up! A small gesture can make a big difference and we can’t assume people have access to all the materials they need.

Be adaptable

Every day until this crisis is behind us, we will be presented with new challenges: changes in weather, the flu, and — unfortunately — more deaths of people we know and don’t know. We all need to try our best to be flexible and adaptable.  Schools are going to open, and many are going to close almost as quickly if students and teachers alike come back positive for coronavirus. It has already started to happen, and nothing about this virus indicates that will change anytime soon.

But just like in Jenga, with proper planning we can be prepared for the collapse we know is coming. We just have to learn from our mistakes and the moves we made so we can repair this fragile tower and rebuild it better than ever before. Even if a foot comes out of nowhere to rock our foundation, we will stand firm and strong and come out heartily laughing when this comes to an end and we neatly place the game back in the box.

Jenga photo: © makibestphoto / Adobe Stock.

EDITOR’S NOTE: City Dads Group is working with longtime partner Dove Men+Care to create “how to” videos for the grooming products company’s “Dads Care” campaign. We will be featuring the videos and scripts our members appear in. This one features Jason Greene and his son, Corbin, of our NYC Dads Group talking about how to get your children to play outside.

With much of the country social distancing (or they should be), kids have become accustomed to staying inside instead of enjoying the outdoors, even during the summer. And parents, since we’re still trying to work from home and manage the weirdness that is daily life, it has become all too tempting to let them sit comfortably on the couch. It isn’t healthy though.

I have been a stay-at-home dad for 15 years and during that time, I homeschooled for three years. Even while schooling them, I made sure that play outside time was a part of our everyday activity. Not only are you helping them get that all-important vitamin D, but it helps kids with their social skills and increase their imagination.

Here are my three tips for getting kids to play outside:

1. Put it on the schedule

During normal school hours in school, kids have recess or gym class on their schedule. They know while they’re sitting there that there’s going to be a time for them to run around, scream and play.

Also having it on a schedule, reminds you to give them outside time so you just don’t breeze past it.

2. Be an active participant with your the kids

Your children are much more likely to have fun and go outside if they know the parent is going to come with them. Not only are you creating these great memories with them but you are creating a desire in them to want to be outside.

When we go out, we play a lot of games — badminton, catch, HORSE on the basketball hoop. We have a lot of fun together.

3. Plan ahead

On sunny days, you should know you have sunscreen on hand and put it on them. On cold days, dress appropriately. And don’t forget to bring snacks and a water bottle. If your prepared, you’ll probably stay out longer and have more fun.

Photo: © anekoho / Adobe Stock.

I didn’t really want to play Risk, but I felt a little trapped.

My son brought it up a few nights ago and said, “It’s Family Game Night! Let’s play!” And then my wife said, “Great!”

So I capitulated, groaning loudly. We started the game.

It’s not that I don’t like Risk. When I was a kid, I loved it. My best friend in second (or maybe it was third) grade, Paul Squizzero, had the game and on Saturdays, I would go to his house, and we would stage rollicking battles on his kitchen table with his family while his mom made us bologna and ketchup sandwiches, which I absolutely loved.

But the thing about Risk that I don’t particularly like is the element of luck. You can have 20 guys in Mongolia and only one in Siam, and with the right rolls, that one guy in Siam could end up winning. It’s not the power of the Siamese training forces. It’s just plain luck. When I was younger I saw some kind of majesty in that, the romanticism of the one fighting for his ideals, but now, when I think of it, it just seems that it is one guy is forestalling the inevitable. He won’t be able to win, he should just give up. Is this the difference in outlook between youth and middle age?

And the rolling, and the changing of armies, and the decision making, the game can be just interminable. It just tries my patience. Boy, I sound like a cranky old man!

But here we were, playing through it. I was grinning and bearing it, like a good dad should. To be truthful, I was probably grimacing more than grinning. I was dealt terrible countries, and my son, bless his little Siamese heart, is an amazing roller.

That first night, it got to be about 9, and we were only about a quarter through the game. I was in third place, far behind, and my wife was way ahead. (She’s very good at strategy games, and she’s a very lucky roller.) We left the board as is, set up on our dining room table, and over the next two days we ate around, over, and through the table, anywhere but where the game was set up.  Each time we played a few rounds, and things were moving. I made an incursion into North America. My son gained Australia. My wife gained South America, and then turn after turn would lose one country only to gain it again.

After three days on and off of this, my son was in the lead. I thought about giving up multiple times.

Risk Day 3: The Final Conquest.

We played a quick round in the morning. I conquered North America! I set up strong borders. I let my wife and son duke it out — she got greedy and tried to swallow Europe whole, but couldn’t quite do it, and my son took it right back. The cards kept on escalating. We had to stop at my turn so that I could go to a telemedicine doctor’s appointment, and my wife could get some work done.

After dinner, we sat down to play, one final time, agreeing we’d finish it off. I had warmed up to the game again. I was in it to win it. I fortified my borders. I took over most of South America from my wife. I managed to take my son’s continents away while keeping two of my own. My wife didn’t have enough firepower to do anything, flaming out on a spectacular set of rolls against my son. I told you he was a lucky roller!

My son turned in cards and got 62 armies. He annihilated my wife’s armies and grabbed her cards. He tried to invade North America through Greenland and failed. He tried to make an incursion into South America through Brazil and failed. He decided not to try Alaska, and let me take my turn. I turned in my cards for a total of 68 armies, and proceeded to romp through Asia, Africa, and Europe, and Australia, taking all of his continents away from him.

Rather than continuing to push my luck, I left strong troops in each of the continents and fortified my borders. I thought my was going to win over the long haul, but he took a look at the board, realized that he was in for a much longer, sloggier mess than he had realized, and decided to give up! I emerged victorious!

The moral of our game-playing foray

There are actually a few morals that I can think of:

• Never get into a land war in Asia.  (Check)
• Spending time with my family is fun!
• It turns out that forestalling the inevitable will work when your opponent is young and impatient.
• You should not always listen to your inner voice. I had a fun time playing Risk, even though I groaned when it was proposed  (I am sure that EMERGING VICTORIOUS had something to do with that.)
• Risk is as much about knowing when to stop as it is about taking actual risks.
• I’m also a lucky roller, and I get it from my family.

A version of this first appeared on Dadapalooza. Risk board game photo: © Albert / Adobe Stock.

These are the words every father must say at some point in his life. “Don’t worry about your schoolwork. This is more important.”

My 12-year-old puts aside his math and follows me into the living room. I sit on the couch and hand him the second player game controller. He smiles. Game on, bitches.

“OK, Dad. Where are you at?” he asks, a touch of superiority in his voice. I don’t like him to see me in a moment of weakness, and I have to remind myself that there is no shame in showing emotion.

“It’s the cave, son. I can’t get past the cave.”

“On it.” And like that, we jump into one of his video games.

During the quarantine, I have found myself with some extra free time. As a result, I have taken up one of the video games I gave him years ago. Some of you may have heard of it, ARK: Survival Evolved. A ferocious game with dinosaurs, and I think laser weapons. Although I’m not too sure about that last part. I’m pretty low level.

If I could only get past the cave, then maybe I could get some freaking lasers up in here. This is what my goal is while on lockdown. Lasers. I want freaking lasers. We begin to play together. He chaperones me into his world.

“You got to move faster, dad,” he says. Like that’s an easy thing for an old man such as me.

“I’m going fast!”

“Not fast enough.”

My character dies.

‘I am a child of Zelda!’

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I know what I’m doing!” Kind of.

“It’s nothing more than dungeon crawling. Do you know what that is?” he asks.

“I am a child of Zelda! I was born into the 8-bit world of dungeons before you were even a thought!”

“Then you should be good at it.”

I die again. My character respawns. We’ve barely gone 10 feet inside the cave. That’s OK, I’m just finding my groove.

“You go first this time,” I tell him. I’m a strategist. Tactics are left for the foot soldiers. I command better from the rear. He races in on his finely tuned dinosaur beast and destroys everything. He motions me forward. A quick head nod. I follow.

For the next 30 minutes, we go into places that even Homer wouldn’t write about. The dark recesses of the video game world where monstrous creatures loom. I manage not to get my digital head ripped off.

“Where are you going?” he asks me when we get lost.

“I’m going to wander around a bit and find the way to the treasure,” I tell him.

“It’s an artifact, not a treasure. Shouldn’t we make a plan?”

“Whatever, Indiana Jones,” I say. “Wandering has worked well in my youth and it is going to work now. Have you ever played a game called E.T.?”

“That was a game?”

“We don’t talk about it, but yes. Trust me, I’m great at wandering around for hours.”

Arcade or living room — video games bind

We push on with him doing most of the work. Slowly, I start to help, and he yells encouraging things at me. Helpful statements such as, “Good job not getting eaten!” It sounds condescending until I look at him and can tell he really means it.

He knows he’s better than me at this game. I know it. But I also know something he doesn’t, which is bigger than the giant spider thing that almost eats my face.

I played video games with my dad growing up. Not a whole lot, but it’s a memory that sticks in my head. Galaga, the old faithful from my youth in the early ’80s. My dad took me to the arcade and would give me five dollars, which was a fortune to us back then. We would go round and round on that game. My father isn’t with me anymore, but that is the memory that I cling to the most when I think of him. His laugh and his smile. His high five when I had a good game or the feel of his hand on my shoulder. Sometimes games are more than just games. That is what us old school dungeon crawlers know.

We make it to the final room and the onslaught is epic. Battle music plays in the background. A giant snake comes at us. We flank and eat it with our beasts of war. Spiders, bats and then something hidden in water jumps at us. We scream and fight on. My son is out of his seat, jumping up and down. His face fierce with concentration. I watch him as much as I watch the game.

And then we have it. The treasure, the artifact, the thing we were after. Heroes, we exit the cave. Every digital step of the way, we relive the battle. My daughter walks through the room and my son tells her our epic story like a bard singing the hero’s tale.

We finish and collapse on the couch. Exhausted but triumphant.

“I gotta go do my math now, dad,” he says.

“All right.”

Then we stand, and he hugs me. A full-on hug. Not that half-hearted bro thing he’s been doing lately.

And there it is. That’s the treasure that I really wanted all along. That memory. Not just for me, but for him as well. He turns to walk away.

“Next cave is tomorrow,” I tell him.

“You bet!” he says, actually excited.

In my own head, I feel a hand on my shoulder and smile.

Video games photo: © Scott Griessel / Adobe Stock.

Bucket Head is a game. A great game. One of our favorites.

It involves me putting a yellow plastic bucket over one of my kids’ heads until their face is completely covered and then using it for a drum. All the while loudly chanting, “Buuuucket HEAAAD! BucketHeadBucketHead!” I drum fairly lightly, and they laugh and laugh and then it’s my turn to wear the bucket. It is elegant in its simplicity.

The game has evolved. Now the Peanut plays it with her little brother. In her version, she runs at him and slams the bucket down over his wispy, blond-haired, unsuspecting head and then wails on it with everything she’s got.

Just pounds the snot out of him. While screeching “BUCKET HEAD!!!” like an insane bird of prey.

The Pumpkin Man usually vacillates between laughing and crying until I can rescue him. He’s so happy she’s playing with him, but man, love hurts. She smiles and screams his name and tells me, “He likes it, Daddy. He likes it!”

It’s a little frightening for everyone. In a good way.

At our twice-weekly YMCA playgroup, not everyone talks to me. It’s mostly moms. Some of them are nice, many are standoffish. Some of the standoffish ones even go to the trouble of carrying extra, suspicious, mistrustful stares in their diaper bags that they drag out just for me.

There are times when I’m self-pitying about it and I wonder what I did wrong. Of course, when I’m honest with myself, I know what I did.

It started innocently enough. I was over to the side, playing a game of Bucket Head with my kids.

Some of the other kids noticed. They were intrigued. Who wouldn’t be?

Being naturally friendly, I shared our family game with them. At first it was just a couple of the bolder 3-year-olds. They, in turn, passed it on. Paid It Forward.

In a flash, toddlers everywhere were playing Bucket Head. Playing it hard. Like a campfire in a meth lab, it quickly got out of control. Toddlers, dozens of them — maybe hundreds — eyes wild, unseen mouths flecked with foam, running blindly, screaming, “Bucket Head!”

(Some of them had placed the bucket on their own heads and were stumbling around the gym, the call of Bucket Head echoing out from under their plastic headwear. That is not how the game is played. I mean – c’mon, guys. Pay attention. Which is something I probably shouldn’t have been saying at that moment.).

We ran out of buckets early on. They used plastic bins, toy strollers, Big Wheels, Playskool garages; whatever plastic toy they could cram onto each other’s heads and then thump. Tiny warrior-savages careening around, smiting the stuffing out of each other, crashing into each other. Screaming and eventually, swearing.

“Bucket Head! Fucking Buuucket Heaaad! GAAAHH!”

Civilizations collapsed and the playgroup plunged into chaos. Darkness. Not unlike the darkness you might experience if you were to have a bucket suddenly descend, unbidden, over your eyes.

It took us a long time to recover. Not everyone has forgiven me.

I wonder if they would like Cymbal Feet any better?

A version of this first appeared on Musings from the Big Pink. Main photo: © Michael Kachalov / Adobe Stock. Secondary photo: Homemaker Man.

Back in the day, I was a nerd who worked at FAO Schwarz. I read too many comics, collected way too many action figures, and lived and breathed toys. And every year, I tried to find a way to get into Toy Fair New York.

Toy Fair, for those who don’t know, is the annual trade show where toy companies show off their wares and try to get you excited about the products they have coming out in the new year. While that can be a hit or miss prospect for getting store buyers excited for new lines, it never fails to thrill nerds like me.

You see, I used to agonize over not being able to get into Toy Fair. I may have worked in toys, collected them, and amassed vast knowledge about them, but I wasn’t a buyer and I wasn’t press, so I wasn’t getting in there to see all the awesomeness.

Well, things change. Thanks to the interwebz, I’m now officially press. And because I write about this nerdy stuff, I’ve gotten to attend Toy Fair these last three years, an ambition of mine that’s been literally decades in the making.

Toy Fair has become more than just being about the toys. It’s the people making, distributing or reporting on those toys that really makes Toy Fair awesome. Attending Toy Fair gives you a backstage pass to the toy industry, and it introduces you to some great folks along the way. After all, anyone can take pictures of all the toys to be seen there, but the really interesting stories are why some of these people are at Toy Fair in the first place.

Marty Abrams is well known by avid toy collectors, and even if you don’t know his name, you know his work. Marty is the man behind Mego, which made iconic toys in the 1970s. If you didn’t have these eight-inch action figures from Star Trek, DC, Marvel or even from Happy Days, then you know someone who did. So it’s really nice to see the gregarious Marty Abrams back at Toy Fair, bringing these beloved toys back!

Todd McFarlane is another rock star in the toy industry. I’ve been a fan of his ever since he drew Batman: Year Two in the ’80s, and watched with awe as he became a comics superstar. He started his own company, Image Comics, which revolutionized that industry, and then subsequently started up McFarlane Toys which revolutionized the toy industry.

McFarlane now handles multiple hot licenses, including Fortnite, Game of Thrones, and all major sports leagues. It also just acquired the rights to DC Comics’ characters. Because of that, Todd himself was being pulled in 80 different directions at once while I was touring his booth. But he still took a few moments to come over and chat with me and pose for a picture, because I’m a nerd, and so is he.

Charlie Friend, president of Green Toys, is also passionate about the products he makes but he fills a unique niche. Green Toys are made of completely recycled material, right here in the USA. They have everything from active play toys to vehicles, and their message of sustainability and respect for the planet we live on is a necessary and pertinent one. His enthusiasm for what he does is impressive and admirable.

Zach Oat is with Diamond Select Toys, producing figures, props and statues meant for adult collectors. I knew him from ToyFare magazine, one of the periodicals that used to tell me about Toy Fair. We had a grand conversation about some of the things he’s seen and had a hand in, including the show Robot Chicken, which came from Toyfare magazine.

Some folks I’d gotten to know weren’t there this year, but in Christine Kaskey’s case, this was a good thing. She started her own company, Kaskey Kids, and became famous for her “Sports Guys” figures. While I did miss seeing her at the show, I was happy to see it was for a good reason, as she had sold Kaskey Kids to Masterpieces, a well known toy and game company.

Toy Fair also provided me the opportunity to meet other writers, vloggers and influencers I either already knew or was a fan of. Dan Larson of Toy Galaxy was there, as were Nerds in a Bar, Toy Shiz, and many others. I’m happy to report they’re all great folks.

But what was especially nice was hanging out with other dads and parents I’ve gotten to know through City Dads Group. Granted, some of these folks I now only see at events like this, but when you work at home a lot, it’s actually very nice to have “work friends” again, people like Gregg Jobson-Larkin from Darleen & Gregg, Adam Cohen from Dada Rocks and Denise Comeau from Game On Mom.

When I was a kid, I wanted to work with toys somehow. Whether it was making them, selling them, whatever, and my career has reflected that. Now that I’ve been going to Toy Fair for a while, it’s been a welcome and pleasant surprise to discover that the people who share that passion for toys are just as nice as one could hope they’d be.

Toy Fair is awesome. But what makes it awesome is not just the toys, or even getting to see all of the new lines, but meeting the people who work with those toys. Seeing them again is what I most look forward to from Toy Fair next year.

All photos by Chad R. MacDonald.

Aaaah, the holiday season. It returns, bringing with it more joy, wonder and potential deathtraps than you can shake a pointy stick at.

Third-degree burns from frying latkes. E. coli from contaminated romaine lettuce. That concealed carrying cousin from your mom’s side who always wants to pre-game a family gathering with the rallying cry, “Let’s pound some Fireball!”

Don’t forget those killer toys (literally “toys that kill”). You won’t thanks to World Against Toys Causing Harm Inc., which recently released its annual list of “10 Worst Toys.” While “worst” to most parents implies toys that within minutes will either bore kids or be broken, this watchdog group instead selects items kids can use to, within minutes, either bore holes into themselves or break others.

Some choices are no-brainers, as in “you have no brains if you think this is a good purchase for child who can barely control his or her bodily functions.”

These worst toys include:

Marvel Black Panther Slash Claw

Put this hard-plastic “paw” over a hand and release the hard-plastic knife-like “claws” for hours of fun cutting up the neighbors and/or sofa! Made for ages 5 and up, so kindergarten show-and-tell will never be bloodier.

Power Rangers Super Ninja Steel Superstar Blade

It’s not just a plastic sword. It’s a SPRING-LOADED plastic sword! If you are cool with giving this to a 4-year-old (that’s the minimum age recommendation), save yourself the $30 and give your child the aforementioned pointy stick. Your grandpa played with a pointy stick and he lived until a ripe ol’ 56, pretty good for a man living during the era of a daily habit of two pack of unfiltered Camels and four trans-fat filled Twinkies.

Magnetic cutting fruit

It’s a thick plastic knife your budding Gordon Ramsay can use to “slice” a pre-halved magnetic apple, pear and orange. Frankly, I’m less concerned with the injuries from the fake knife than with the brain-wiring of an adult willing to shell out $40 on this toy’s concept. Dude, you could have bought four Black Panther Slash Claws with that cash!

Worst toys to shoot out an eye with

This list, as it does every year, contains a few obvious items that fire projectiles. This year’s bad seeds are the Nerf Vortex VTX Praxis Blaster, a plastic assault rifle that shoots little plastic discs, and the Stomp Rocket Ultra Rocket, a foam-tipped missile that can soar up to 200 feet in air when someone jumps on the inflatable launcher. While using these to take down the brat-next-door’s drone that has been buzzing your yard since August sounds intriguing, most parents know in their hearts that no good can come from these toys. Not because of injuries, but because it won’t be long after the unwrapping that the projectiles will be fired onto a roof, into a tree or down a toilet.

Choking, strangulation and acid burns — oh, my!

The remaining listed toys present the usual choking hazards from tiny parts or potential for strangulation from cords. One of these toys — the plush Nickelodeon Nella Princess Knight Pillow Pets Sleeptime Lites — has the added warning of “battery acid leakage.” Bonus!

The organization’s news release tries to drive in a final nail by citing some pretty scary statistics, such as an estimated 240,000 toy-related injuries in the United States in 2016 and a shocking 40-percent increase in toy-related injuries between 1990 and 2011. However, this reveals two positives:

1. With all the stress and craziness in the world, there’s still time to play and;
2. Expect a major resurgence in the pointy stick industry.

They may not have as many world championships as another baseball team in town, but the New York Mets continue to lead our city in family friendliness when it comes to taking the kids out to the ol’ ball game.

Here’s what the Metropolitans have in store for families and children in 2018:

Mets Family Sundays return – 13 times!

We’ve raved about Mets Family Sundays in years past with good reason. There are lots for kids of all ages and their parents to do even if the game doesn’t hold everyone’s attention.

It all starts this Sunday, April 1, with the first of 13 popular Mets Family Sundays. These games include two matchups against division rivals the Washington Nationals, crosstown rivals the Yankees, and the popular Los Angeles Dodgers and Chicago Cubs.

The Mets family fun starts two hours before the first pitch of these home games. Hang out at Mets Plaza (in front of the main stadium entrance by the subway stairs) and lets the kids play games, jump on inflatables, get their faces painted or just listen to music.

Family Sundays giveaways

Arriving early for Mets Family Sundays ensures you get a cool gift. Some of this year’s Family Sundays promotional items include: a Build-a-Bear (April 1), a Mets cap (June 24), a W.B. Mason toy truck (July 15) and a Mets lunch bag (August 26).

Runs the bases like a big leaguer

After a Mets Family Sundays game, children ages 12 and under can run the bases at Citi Field just like their favorite major league player. For free! The Mr. Met Dash, as it is known, is quite popular so be prepared to start lining up in the late innings. The event, like all outdoor activities at the game, is weather permitting.

Mets Family Fun at every home game

Sunday is not the only day for family friendliness at Citi Field.

Fan Fest: Once the stadium gates open you can head to the popular FanFest area on the field level beyond center field. Here you can slug Wiffle balls out of scale Citi Field, fire a fastball to drop someone into the dunk tank, play various games, and even get a photo with the one and only Mr. Met and his wife, Mrs. Met. Weather permitting, the FanFest area remains open until the seventh inning.

Kids meals: Young fans can purchase a Kids’ Meal (a Nathan’s hot dog, popcorn, juice box and prize) for just $7 at the concession stand located behind Section 121 on the Field Level.

First game certificates: Make you kids first-ever visit to Citi Field by getting them a First Game Certificate. Stop by any Fan Assistance station to sign-up for one.

While everything we’ve mentioned so far is included in the price of admission, you can get a few bonuses if you sign your child up for one of the three Mr. Met’s Kids Club memberships.

First, the team has added a free Kids Club membership for 2018. Members receive a vouchers for two free tickets in the Promenade Outfield section for a select home game along with access to offer tickets offers to home games for the Mets and their Brooklyn Cyclones minor league team.

The $35 “All-Star membership” package gets you four free tickets in the Promenade Outfield section for a select game while the $55 “MVP” package upgrades you to the Field Level seats.

Getting one of the paid memberships does have its perks. The All-Star and MVP packages offer your child a “passport” and lanyard. Bring it on Mets Family Sundays for “Fast Pass access” through the line for the post-game Mr. Met Dash. Also, if you get the passport scanned at the FanFest area any time you go to a game, you collect stamps that make you eligible for cool prizes such as a special cap or jersey.

A paid Mr. Met’s Kids Club membership also gets your kid:

• Two “buy one, get one free” ticket offers, good for most home games throughout the season
• Four complimentary tickets to see the team’s Single A minor league team, the Brooklyn Cyclones, at a select game at their Coney island ballpark
• Mets drawstring bag
• Mets pencil case, bookmark, and doortag
• Pair of Mets wristbands

So enjoy some Mets family fun with your kids at Citi Field in 2018 and, when you do, let them know NYC Dads Group sent ya!