If “Born in the USA” has taught us anything, it’s that people will cheerfully blare any song with a catchy beat regardless of the incongruously depressing lyrics. These days every store you walk into is legally required to play Andy Williams’ “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” at least once an hour. Tucked into that ditty about holiday cheer is this little chestnut:

There’ll be scary ghost stories
and tales of the glories
Of Christmases long, long ago

Wait – what?

Scary ghost stories? Scary Christmas ghost stories!?

On the surface, it seems like a lyric a few months past its Halloween expiration date. But scratch the tinseled surface and Christmas has some weird undertones.

What’s so jolly about a young, panicked woman giving birth in a filthy stable in the dead of night? Or an immortal being who breaks into houses and whose omnipresent gaze is fixed on your every move? Watching. Judging.

Life’s ghosts don’t take a Christmas vacation, and hardships don’t plan around your holiday calendar. So as I sat with my mother in hospice, two days before Christmas a few years back, it was hard not to notice the almost purgatorial nature of her room. At the nurse’s station outside, people flitted by – chatting next to holiday décor. In her room, it was dark and still. There was no longer the need for the expensive machines she had been hooked to for the past 10 months. No beeping or dinging. Just her shallow breath and closed eyes.

Ours had always been a difficult relationship. She was what some would describe as a “formidable woman.” Her superpower was bending reality to justify her actions. On the rare occasion where she owned up to being in the wrong, she would happily tell you why it was really someone else’s fault. Likely yours.

Becoming a father put into relief how differently we were wired. My journey into parenthood has taught me the value of self-reflection – examining why I am where I am, what I’m feeling, and what lessons I have learned. And how am I going to impart that to the two malleable humans who are always learning from me, whether I want them to or not? It’s a rich and rewarding road, but the tradeoff is it doesn’t end until you do. There’s no finish line. And you never get to fold your arms and say, “So there. Checkmate.” Reflection versus justification. My mother and I simply had different approaches to life.

But, oh, how she was loyal. I knew she would pitch a tent and just live in that room if the tables were turned. If half of life is showing up, she showed up – even if you didn’t realize you needed someone there. That’s also how she was wired. I admired that. I wanted to be that kind of person. And she brought me into this world. She deserved someone to stand sentry as her body prepared to leave it. The someone should be me.

Hours later, my thoughts turned to another family. The one I chose to build with the woman I love. A year of managing my mother’s illness had taken me away from them so often – missing moments big and small. They deserved my showing up as well, especially at Christmas. In the dark, I gathered my things and stood over her and said the last words I hoped she would hear. “I love you. … Goodbye.” And I left

The next morning my phone rang. It was the hospice. At 7:30 a.m. On Christmas Eve. They weren’t calling to discuss paperwork.

Christmas Day, my wife and I had to sit down our 6-year-old and tell her grandma died. She had known pets who had passed on, and over the year I kept her up to date as best I could on what was going on with her grandmother, even though she might not make it. All this she handled with surprising grace. But the end hit her hard. Amid the debris of wrapping paper and toys, I held my crying daughter and told her all the things I had researched to say. I spoke honestly about how special their relationship was. We would make a memory book of all the fun times they shared. I also could see her telling a future therapist, “I think it all started when I was 6 and my dad interrupted Christmas to tell me THAT MY FRIGGIN’ GRANDMOTHER WAS DEAD.”

I’ll give my mother this much, she had a flair for the dramatic. Every Christmas Eve from now on I’ll be haunted by her ghost, like Jacob Marley visiting Scrooge. As for my daughter, well, we’ve all changed in this last year. Kids are strong and resilient all right, but you can’t just say that with a shrug and go get a snack. There’ll be checking in, talking, listening, observing. As I said, no finish line.

If you want Christmas “tales of the glories,” you’ll have to take the Christmas “ghost stories.” That’s what relationships leave you with – even at this time of year. Especially at this time of year. Whenever we can celebrate the holidays with people and music again, you’re likely to be visited by a ghost or two as everyone is swaying to a favorite seasonal tune – be it traditional or hip. And if someone is wondering why you aren’t moved like they are, just give them this sage response: “Well, because, I’m listening to the words.”

Christmas ghost stories of photo by © RK1919 / Adobe Stock.

While I often joke about the mom-centric attitude of my children, it’s definitely started to wear me down.

Every day I endure three kids going out of their way to remind me that mommy is superior. Just a bit ago, I stopped writing this to take my daughter to gymnastics. She began to whine and complain. My wife gave in, and here I sit, typing away, reminded I’m the lowest-ranking member of House Lemon.

Most of the time we don’t give in. My wife and I alternate duties, and the kids have to accept it. This doesn’t stop me from hearing about it, though. The kids who stay home with mommy cheer. The kid stuck with lame old dad mopes, whines, and generally makes sure I know I’m the least wanted. My brain can fully rationalize this reality, and I know it’s developmentally appropriate. I know if I wasn’t a stay-at-home dad, they’d likely be clamoring for time with me and less time with mommy. If I was more the pushover and less the rule enforcer, this parental pendulum might swing in my favor. My brain knows this, but my heart remains wounded.

It’s unfair to blame my kids, and it’s particularly unfair to blame my wife for being easy-going and generally more fun to be around. The blame here, if blame is the appropriate word, is upon me. I’m letting my lack of self-worth increase the sting of my kid’s choices. Maybe if my inner monologue wasn’t so negative, I’d have fewer feelings about the kids constantly choosing my wife over me.

I am consistently floored at how often my children are a mirror, reflecting the best and worst of who I am. Not just when their actions mimic mine, but it’s particularly illuminating when my reaction to them gives me previously unseen insight into who I am. Or, perhaps more accurately, who I’m not.

Maybe I’m weaker than I realize? Perhaps my kids are right and I’m the problem.

Or maybe.

Just maybe …

It’s them.

It’s all them!

Truth is, I’m rather fun. And, if the weather is just right, and my back isn’t being too grumpy, I’m downright delightful. Also, I’m not sorry for enforcing the rules. I’m not sorry for saying, “Yeaaaah, that’s a bad idea,” when my son is dangling over a dangerous precipice. Nor do I feel guilty stopping my daughter from getting too close to the dinosaur-infested waters of our local swamp (we live in Florida – it’s all swamp). I’m particularly not sorry for consistently steering the family away from bad decisions which I know will result in tears, meltdowns, fiery bedtime debates, or just general bedlam and reckless tomfoolery.

They can all suck it! It’s not me. It’s THEM!

Folks, we live in strange times. Times that are extremely difficult to navigate. Genders are fluid, fluids are filled with poisonous microplastics, and I’m just on the edge of being too old to adapt to any of it. Some men believe I’m too soft. Some men believe I’m too hard (be proud of the inappropriate jokes I’m omitting here). Everyone has a digital megaphone from which they can loudly judge the decisions and lifestyle choices of others, and here I am just trying to figure out how far I can let my kids ride their bikes from the house, knowing I’ll hear, “Well, Mommy lets me ride my bike in the street.”

Do I look like Mommy?

Sometimes resistance is a sign you’re on the wrong path. Other times, especially when assuming your natural role as a parent, resistance is a sign you’re doing something right. As parents, we have to be a little annoying. One of us has to be cool, because doing cool stuff is fun, and a little freedom goes a long way. But one of us absolutely needs to apply the brakes. Someone has to speak up, take the heat, and be the sopping wet blanket that ruins all the fun. Some call it balance. I just call it my genetic birthright to be the Gloomy Gus dialing everything back.

Hold strong my fellow parents. Don’t be afraid to be the annoying one, and perhaps most importantly, remember that on the gloomiest of days, when the kids have beaten your ego so bad not even a friendly shaman could help you find it: It’s not you – it’s them!

It’s always them!

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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.

Photo by Phil Nguyen via Pexels.

For seven years I held the best job the world has to offer. It’s the most fun job I can envision, and at times, one of the hardest imaginable.

I’m talking about my happy time as a SAHD: a stay-at-home dad.

For seven years, I was the MAN. The go-to parent for every joy, every heartache, every need. I oversaw food, fitness and fun. We would take “dadventures” — exploring nearby museums, parks, historic sites and more. I raised my son and daughter, loving every moment I spent with them. And life was amazing.

But the pay … it sucked.

This past fall, my daughter, the younger of our kids, enrolled in preschool. At first, I felt free. I’d have more time to focus on the housework, cooking and other responsibilities without feeling rushed all the time. Yet, those wide-open days started feeling a bit …boring. When you’re used to constant noise and attention, the quiet while your children are at school is both empowering and unsettling.

So I started working part-time as a substitute teacher. I enjoyed spending this time in my kids’ schools and even subbing in their classes. Subbing is good for the struggling school systems (I was a full-time teacher before our kids were born) and I liked being able to do it on my terms. School holiday? I’m off too. One kid sick? I don’t take a sub job that day. And so on.

It felt strange working part-time, though. It made me realize I had an even bigger decision looming ahead of me as my children got older: Should I return to work full-time?

I hadn’t had a traditional “office” job in seven years. Would employers even want to talk to me? Realistically, as sexist as it sounds, leaving the workforce for stay-at-home fatherhood is a tough sell to potential future employers.

Another thing to consider: What would I do for work? I didn’t want to go back to teaching, I knew that. And I didn’t know what the job market for my skills would be like. I did know I wanted to try something.

I dove into the job hunt. A hundred applications across months. A handful of interviews that didn’t pan out. And a lot of crickets.

Let me backtrack a moment. When you become an at-home parent, you experience an initial period of limbo when nothing feels right or normal. You’re used to being on someone else’s clock, but now you set the timetable. Rather than a boss who dresses you down, your “boss” is now this little person you have to dress daily. Instead of being surrounded by co-workers and other adults, you are now isolated on Kid Island—sometimes I needed reminding to go outside and be around others.    

I thought about that period because here I was in limbo again. I didn’t know what I wanted or how to get there. My kids still mattered the most, but I knew I wanted to be working and earning money. I wanted to still be there for them for intense, amazing play at least a little bit every day. So then, what could I do?

Well, I threw in the job search towel.

Instead, my wife and I decided to open our own business from home, working full-time to make it succeed.

It hasn’t been easy, but here I am … making more money than I ever did as a full-time teacher. I work from home, setting my own timetable. My boss is my wife. She dresses me down often, if you know what I mean, but I keep it PG in front of the kids. And since working from home is a bit isolating, we’re constantly putting ourselves in front of others. I’m even giving a TEDx talk in front of a crowd at Philadelphia next month.

In other words, we took all the elements we liked about my time as an SAHD and kept them then fit work around them. Every day, I spend time with my kids. Every day I spend time with my wife. I work on my terms and on my timeline.

Creating and running your own business won’t be for everyone, but for me, this scenario has been the secret to being “happy after SAHD.” I think the key is to find the priorities that matter to you and find a way to make them happen. My priority is spending time with the kids. Finding an employer willing to work with me on that, with a seven-year “gap” as a SAHD on my resume and a career change in mind … well, maybe my wife’s the only boss who that would work for. Still, find those priorities and stick to them.

Parenting, regardless of your work (or non-work) situation, doesn’t end. In my new position, our dadventures still happen, and so do the dad jokes and, of course, the constant care of kids. It’s possible to do all those, and still work. Being happy after SAHD means embracing the longer-term job of fatherhood, and recognizing that everything else is secondary.

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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.

Photo by Gustavo Fring from Pexels.

Know what’s music to our ears? Dad jokes. Specifically, the groans and guffaws (but mostly groans) we hear when we tell them.

So we ask you, what better reason do we have to compile a melodious (or is it odorous?) batch of kid-friendly silly jokes and funny puns about music for dads to tell?

We hope these musical dad jokes strike a chord near your funny bone. In fact, we consider this compilation of dad-worthy humor a high note for us. If they don’t fall flat with you, please sing the praises of our music dad jokes to others.

Best/worst music puns and dad jokes

Q. Why is a piano so hard to open?
A. Because the keys are on the inside.

Q. Why do fluorescent lights hum?
A. Because they forgot the words.

Q. What did the boy band that plays classical music name itself?
A. The Bach Street Boys.

Q. Why did the cow start taking singing lessons?
A. Because she wanted to be a moo-sician.

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Many people told Beethoven that he would never be a musician because he was deaf, but did he listen?

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Q. Why do fish make good musicians?
A. They know their scales.

Q. What’s big and grey with horns?
A. A rhinoceros marching band.

Q. What did the Spanish musician say after they left the sound booth?
A. Audios.

Q. What is a rabbit‘s favorite kind of music?
A. Hip-hop.

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Can you believe that my neighbor rang my doorbell at 3 a.m.? Luckily, I was still up playing the drums.

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Q. What do you call a musician with problems?
A. A trebled man.

Q. Why were the musicians arrested by the highway patrol?
A. Because they started a massive jam on the interstate.

Q. Which of Santa’s elves is the best singer?
A. Elfis Presley.

Q. What did the robbers take from the music store?
A. The lute.

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I just learned that the drummer from my old band had triplets. They’re all girls. He calls them Anna One, Anna Two, Anna Three.

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Q. How do you make a bandstand?
A. Take away their chairs.

Q. Why do bagpipers walk while they play?
A. To get away from that awful noise.

Q. What do you get if you cross a sweet potato and a jazz musician?
A. A yam session.

Q. What is Mozart doing these days?
A. Decomposing.

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When I was young I wanted to play the guitar really badly. After years of lessons and practice, I can honestly say I play the guitar really badly.

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Q. Why was the dad repeatedly banging the side of his head on the piano?
A. He was playing by ear.

Q. What has 60 feet and sings in harmony?
A. A school choir.

Q. Why did the opera singer become a pirate?
A. Because she wanted to hit the high Cs.

Q. What kind of band doesn’t play music?
A. A rubber band.

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Today my daughter asked for a 14-piece drumkit and I said no. She called me the cheapest dad in the world, but I’m not buying it.

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Q. Who is a grain farmer’s favorite musical artist?
A. Hall & Oates.

Q. What is Beethoven’s favorite fruit?
A. Ba-na-na-naaaaa.

Q. What is the difference between a drummer and a savings bond?
A. One will mature and make money.

Q. How do you fix a broken brass instrument?
A. With a tuba glue.

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I tried to make my online password “drumset” but the website rejected it. The error message said the password cannot contain cymbals.

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Q. What’s a golfer’s favorite type of music?
A. Swing!

Q. How can you tell if a bad singer is at your door?
A. They can’t find the key and don’t know when to come in.

Q. What’s an avocado’s favorite music?
A. Guac ‘n’ roll.

Q. Why was music coming from the printer?
A. The paper was jamming.

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Accordion to one study, people don’t notice when you replace any given word with the name of a musical instrument. However, I don’t believe that tuba true.

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Q. What is the most musical part of your body?
A. Your nose because you can blow and pick it.

Q. Which composer really liked to drink tea?
A. Chai-kovsky.

Q. Where do pianists go to take a tropical vacation?
A. The Florida Keys.

Child: I’m learning this new Baroque piece and it’s really hard.
Dad: Well, maybe you should fix it!

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I strained a finger today playing the piano. But on the other hand, I’m fine.

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Q. What do most people say after hearing too many music dad jokes?
A. “These jokes are so bad, I can’t Handel them.”

Music dad jokes photo by Alena Darmel via Pexels.

Resolutions. I love them. Love to make them, write them down, and commit to them loudly with bravado at New Year’s Eve parties (“I’m SO gonna do Tough Mudder this year! AND go gluten-free. WHO’S WITH ME?!!”) even while knowing all that big talk will likely evaporate by February. I just like this time of year when we all attempt to take a few steps toward becoming better humans, at least for a little while.

For me, resolutions fall into two categories:

• Outward Accomplishments — get more writing done, make more money, be the first bald man ever to grow a new head of hair by determination and straining alone
• Inward Improvements — be nicer, be less judgmental, be a tiny bit less hypocritical by not yelling at other drivers just before cutting someone else off myself

To have some nice father-daughter bonding time recently, I sat down with my 14-year-old daughter to talk about making our New Year’s resolutions, particularly in the category of Inward Improvements.

Spoiler Alert: she doesn’t have any.

That is, she doesn’t have any resolutions for herself. Turns out, however, she had several resolutions for me.

Like, a list.

That she’d already written down.

For me.

Ways that I, her father, can improve.

It was a super-productive discussion.

These are the resolutions my daughter told me I should embrace, straight from the 14-year-old’s mouth:

1. No more knocking on my door and asking if I want to, like, hang out all the time. If I want to hang out, I’ll come find you.

Me: But you never want to hang out.

Her: That’s not true. We hung out for an hour yesterday.

Me: That was Christmas. You hung out with me because I was giving you presents.

Her: Well, let’s do more of that kind of hanging out then.

2. You know that thing where you try to use cool slang in front of my friends? Stop doing that. No one actually says “OMG” out loud. It’s not a thing.

Me: Are you sure? Because kids on TV say it all the time.

Her: No! Bad dad.

3. Stop repeating yourself all the time. For example, you don’t need to tell me to wash the dishes FIVE TIMES after every night.

Me:  But you never respond after the first four times. If you did, I would stop —

Her: You don’t give me a chance! Sometimes it just takes me a while to, you know, process what you’re saying.

4. Stop talking about Star Wars, like, all the time.

Me: No.

5. Ease up on my grades. Sometimes a B+ is just fine.

Me: But what if it’s in a class where I know you can get an A?

Her: If I could get an A in a class, I’d already have one. A B+ is still above average, you know.

Me: I’d like to think we can set our goals higher than –

Her: BAD DAD!

6. Stop trying to make me do boring grown-up things all the time.

Me: You mean like laundry?

Her: Very funny.

7. Stop worrying so much about whether I have enough feminine hygiene products in the bathroom.

Me: I just don’t want you to run out of … girl stuff

Her: Dad, you buy “girl stuff” every time you go to the store. I’ll literally never run out for the next 20 years.

Me: Parental responsibility. Listen, someday when you’re an adult you’re going to run out of … stuff, and you’ll look back on what a responsible father I was. And how awkward it was to buy the … stuff.

8. Stop worrying about my screen time. I’m not looking at anything gross online. I’m basically just talking with my friends or drawing on my iPad.

Me: OK. Just promise me you won’t give out any personal information to some stranger claiming to be a 14-year-old named Katy. It might be a 65-year-old guy named Cleetus living in a trailer somewhere.

Her: Dad, I’m not stupid.

Me: Not the point.

9. Stop worrying so much about me in general. I’m totally fine.

Me: Sorry, kid. I’ll never be able to keep that one. Oh, and you should probably know that I’ve made my own set of resolutions that are the exact opposite of everything you just said.

This was originally published in 2016 and later updated. Photo credit: Resolutions and goals via photopin (license)

My wife worships Christmas.

Once the Thanksgiving dishes are done, it’s all Yule, all the time for her. Nothing but Christmas music in the car, Christmas movies on the television, and Christmas shopping on the weekends.

And she was like this BEFORE we had a kid. Now that he’s here, and he’s alive enough to begin to understand Santa and presents and cookies and the tree and all that, not only has my wife’s Christmas-loving resolve strengthened, but I no longer have a Scroogey cane to stand on.

Especially on Christmas Eve when there’s work to do!

This past Christmas the kid had a sense of what was happening, in that he enjoyed tearing the brightly colored wrapping paper off things that were handed to him. This year, he understands toys and seems to get the concept of presents. So it’s game on for the Wife!

Now that our kid is in the know, my wife’s Christmas obsession is in the stratosphere. She wants nothing more than to give our son a good Christmas, which means making sure all the TV he watches is Christmas-themed, all the songs he sings – and he does sing – are Christmas songs, and that he is indoctrinated into the (fraudulent) magic of Santa Claus.

He has been told who Santa is, can identify him in a lineup, and seems genuinely excited about him delivering presents overnight. So yeah, the kid is into the whole Santa Claus thing, so long as that “thing” doesn’t involve going anywhere near an actual person dressed as Santa Claus.

Of course, to complete the illusion, most of the gifts my son will be getting have been signed “From Santa” and, most importantly, none of them are under the tree before he goes to bed on Christmas Eve.

This means after he goes to sleep that night, a half-in-the-bag Daddy is forced to lug everything down from various hiding places throughout the house and down the stairs so that they will magically appear under the tree by the time he wakes up.

I am OK with it. Christmas magic hasn’t happened here in a while and the whole holiday had gotten pretty stale around here, but now that there’s a kid around, the holidays are re-energized, and that’s nice.

Provided I don’t break my neck carrying a huge wooden train set down the stairs.

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried.

There are at least two tried-and-true New Year’s dad jokes in every father’s repertoire.

1. Just before the clock strikes midnight, he will swear not to make any more dad jokes for the rest of the year.
2. Shortly after midnight, he’ll yawn and say he’s so tired because he hasn’t slept since last year.

Some might even have a third. At breakfast on New Year’s Day, a clever father will claim he’s starving because — yep — he hasn’t eaten since last year.

To expand your inventory of New Year’s dad jokes, we have searched high and low (OK … mostly low) to find the best, funniest, silliest dad jokes to welcome in another 12 months with laughter. When you’ve exhausted this supply (as well as the patience of your audience), check out our winter dad jokes or, if you’re feeling romantic, move on to our Valentine’s Day laughers.

Best (and worst) New Year’s dad jokes, riddles and puns

Q. What’s the one type of pain that’s enjoyable on New Year’s?
A. Champagne.

Q. What did the woman say when she was offered a raisin on New Year’s Eve?
A. “No thanks, I already have a date.”

Q. Why is New Year’s Eve the least favorite holiday of a slice of bread?
A. It has to make a toast.

Q. Why should you always go easy on your drinking on New Year’s Eve?
A. Because you don’t want to make too many pour decisions.

Q. What did one IPA say to the other IPA after the clock struck midnight on January 1?
A. “Hoppy New Year!”

Q. Why did the dad start making breakfast at 11:59 p.m. on December 31?
A. Because he wanted to make a New Year’s toast!

Q. Where did the chef celebrate New Year’s Eve?
A. Thyme’s Square.

Q. What happened to the dad who stole a calendar on New Year’s Eve?
A. He got 12 months.

Q. What does a ghost say on January 1st?
A. Happy Boo Year!

Q. What is corn’s favorite holiday?
A. New Ear’s Day.

Q. What’s a cow’s favorite holiday?
A. Moo Year’s Day!

Q. What’s the one group that hates New Year’s Day?
A. The Times Square clean-up crew.

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A guy who had too much to drink decided to walk home on New Year’s Eve. A policeman stopped him and asked where he was going.

“I’m on my way to a lecture,” said the man.

“Who gives a lecture on New Year’s Eve?” asked the cop.

The guy answered: “My wife.”

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Q. What do you call a fear of New Year’s songs?
A. Ole Langxiety.

Q. Why did the boy sprinkle sugar on his pillow on New Year’s Eve?
A. Because he wanted to start the new year with sweet dreams.

Q. Where do butchers go to party on New Year’s Eve?
A. To a meat ball!

Q. Who finds New Year’s Eve most stressful?
A. People diagnosed with “Ole Langxiety.”

Q. Who gets the most excited about the countdown on New Year’s Eve?
A. Calendar companies.

Q. Why is partying in Times Square on New Year’s Eve overrated?
A. Because every year they drop the ball.

Q. What’s the problem with jogging on New Year’s Eve?
A. You spill too much champagne.

New Year resolution jokes

Dad: Son, are you going to resolve to quit all your bad habits in the new year?
Son: Of course not, Dad! You always told me that nobody likes a quitter.

Q. What is the snowman’s New Year’s resolution?
A. To chill out more

Q. What was the priest’s New Year’s resolution?
A. To exorcise more.

Mom: Wow, did the old year go by in a blur!
Dad: Your resolution must’ve been too low.

Q. What New Year’s resolution should a basketball player never make?
A. To travel more.

Dad: My New Year’s resolution was to eat only 1,000 calories a day.
Mom: How have you been doing?
Dad: Great! So far, I’ve surpassed my goal every day!

Q. What’s the easiest way to keep your New Year’s resolution to read more?
A. Turn on your TV’s closed captioning.

New Year’s dad jokes photo: ©soupstock / Adobe Stock.

Spring dad jokes are a warm, seasonal joy for the paternal. After months of slogging it out through cold, snow and winter dad jokes, it’s time to turn over a funny new leaf, right?

That’s why we searched high and mostly low to find the best, funniest, silliest dad jokes of the vernal season. That includes a few April Fools’ Day laughs and even a St. Patrick’s Day giggle that you can spring on unsuspecting children, adults and, of course, enemies of the pun. Enjoy without worry — these have all been spring-cleaned for your kids’ protection. 

If you need some non-seasonal yucks, check out our musical dad jokes for some laughs that sing!

Best (and worst) spring dad jokes, riddles and puns

Q. What does your winter fat turn into?
A. Spring rolls.

Q. What’s the best place to plant flowers at a school?
A. In kinder-garden.

Q. How excited was the gardener about the arrival of spring?
A. So excited that he wet his plants.

Q. How did the tree feel about spring?
A. Re-leafed.

Q. What’s Irish and comes out in spring?
A. Paddy O’Furniture

Q. Which superhero likes spring the best?
A. Robin.

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A family of moles awakens from hibernation.

The father mole pokes his head out of the hole and says, “I smell tulips. It must be spring!”

Then, the mother mole pokes her head out of the hole and says, “I smell cherry blossoms. It MUST be spring!”

The baby mole tries to squeeze between his parents but gets stuck and says, “All I smell is molasses.”

A few April Fool’s Day dad jokes

Q. What’s the best day of the year to monkey around with your friends?
A. Ape-ril Fool’s Day.

Q. Which monster is the best at playing April Fools’ Day jokes?
A. Prankenstein.

Q. Why is everyone so tired on April 1st?
A. Because they just finished a long 31-day long March!

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Did you hear about the pregnant bedbug? She’s having her babies in the spring.

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Q. Why did the farmer throw his seeds into the pond?
A. He was trying to grow watermelons.

Q. What season is best to go on a trampoline?
A. Spring-time

Q. What did the seed groan after the flower told one too many spring dad jokes?
A. “OK, Bloomer.”

Q. What did the tree say to spring?
A. What a re-leaf!

Q. What is the best flower for a boy to give his mom this spring?
A. A son-flower.

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Did you see that the local mattress store is having a spring sale? Unfortunately, the rest of the bed is still full price.

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Q. What can you find in the middle of April and March but not at the beginning or end of either?
A. The letter R.

Q. Why did the farmer bury all his money before planting his spring crops? 
A. To make his soil rich.

Q. Why did the bucket bounce?
A. Because it was filled with spring water.

Q. What’s the difference between spring rolls and summer rolls?
A. Seasoning.

Q. What do you call a bear caught in a spring shower?
A. A drizzly bear.

Q. Why couldn’t the flower bud ride a bike?
A. It didn’t have any petals.

Q. What do you say when it’s raining chickens and ducks in April?
A. Foul spring weather.

Q. What did summer say to spring?
A. “Help, I’m going to fall!”

Spring dad jokes photo: © Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

The first month of the year is not just January – it’s also Veganuary. The idea is simple: don’t eat any foods derived from animals for 31 days.

What began as an idea from a British husband and wife in 2014 has grown into an annual international phenomenon. During 2022, an estimated 620,000 people participated, and the United Kingdom-based Veganuary charity hopes to grow its participation each year.

Why am I telling you this? I’m a vegan dad raising vegan children. And Veganuary is the perfect time to explain why it’s a lifestyle worth considering.

Eleven and half years ago, I was on a first date with a sexy redhead. I was enjoying a bacon cheeseburger. When she only ordered a salad, I flirted by saying she didn’t need to stick to salad as she was so slim. Well, it turned out she was vegan. I was embarrassed, to say the least, though the date wasn’t blown … in fact, I ended up marrying her a year and a half later.

My wife, Rachel, never pressured me to change my diet. She did, however, explain why she was vegan herself. It broke down into three main topics.

Veganism can mean better health

Veganism, when properly planned to incorporate a diverse variety of plant and fortified foods, is healthier. There are many misconceptions about it, though. One of the most common is that vegans suffer from protein deficiency. High protein can be found in many plant sources including beans, soy, whole wheat and nuts. It’s all a matter of regularly incorporating them into your diet.

Another misconception centers around “fake meats” which have grown more common every year. I’ll be blunt. That stuff is delicious, but no one says it’s healthy. It’s essentially vegan junk food. While a Beyond burger may possibly be better for the environment, I’m still only eating those ultra-processed foods on rare occasions. In general, I stick to what’s called a “whole foods plant-based diet,” which is more diverse in food choices, far healthier and more sustainable long-term.

No animals are harmed

This is the original impetus for many people who go vegan. Obviously, if you care about animals, it is better to not eat them, wear them or otherwise profit from their deaths. Dairy and eggs might seem less harmful at first glance, but the animals are often kept in factory-like conditions, force-fed and artificially inseminated repeatedly to keep those products flowing. The more you start to wrap your head around where the animal products you consume come from, the more uncomfortable it feels.

Better for the environment

This is an important part of veganism for many. One study, from Oxford University, claims that going vegan is the “single biggest way” to reduce a person’s carbon footprint. The study argues that carbon use decreases by nearly three-quarters when living a vegan lifestyle since every step of the omnivore process emits greenhouse gasses: Forests are cleared for animals, food is transported to feed them, refrigeration is used to store meat, and so on. The Washington Post recently investigated the destruction of the Amazon rainforest and cites American demand for beef as the chief catalyst of the deforestation there.

Why try Veganuary?

Now you understand some of the reasons for trying veganism. But why now? How can you start? And what should you watch out for?

Veganuary is the perfect opportunity to try veganism. And switching to a plant-based diet has never been easier. You can order vegan options beyond just salads at many restaurants, including fast-food chains. Many supermarkets have plant-based sections with alternatives to meat, cheese and milk. And frankly, those vegan versions have never been tastier. I’ve been vegan for eight years, and am astounded at how fast the industry has changed, both in terms of quality and quantity available.

Yet, pitfalls also exist. The simplest way to go vegan is to switch all your current meals for vegan versions, but that’s not always the best choice. If you eat a lot of meat and chicken, for example, switching to plant-based processed alternatives won’t necessarily be your healthiest move. These versions sometimes have as many, if not more, calories, saturated fat and sodium as their animal counterparts. Plus, you’ll probably get tired of them after a month. Now, don’t deny yourself a few good “fake” burgers or nuggets, but move past them. Mix up your meals and your proteins. Look up some recipes. Try a chili with only beans, corn, tomatoes and spices. Cook up a curry with tofu. Barbeque some tempeh.

Rising vegan children

Parenting a vegan child has its own challenges, and we are raising two of them. I fully admit my own kids eat way more vegan nuggets and protein bars than I’d prefer, but we do what works. They’re healthy and happy kids.

The hardest part is birthday parties, traveling, and other parents. My best advice: Bring your food with you. Also, use the app HappyCow to search out vegan options on the road and at restaurants. Make sure your children get a selection of fruits, carbs, veggies and protein sources every day.

We still get odd looks and occasional jokes from neighbors, but I’m proud to be a vegan dad. And I encourage others to try it.

Photo: © Mara Zemgaliete / Adobe Stock.

It all starts with the crusted ravioli. Is there cheese inside or meat? Since this is a fancy party, maybe it’s something I haven’t imagined yet. Perhaps a jelly of some type infused with gold leaf foil. That would be fancy as fuck and this is a fancy fucking place.

I take a bite. Fried goodness crunches in my mouth. I contemplate the ravioli instead of paying attention to the conversation my wife is having.

This is a party for my wife’s boss and his new bride, a celebration of the nuptials. They are mingling while we hang with another couple on the couch. They seem very nice. The couch couple tells pretty good jokes and has no obvious evil intentions. I have to be on the lookout to survive any of my wife’s work social functions or parties. As an at-home dad, I have been out of the office politics game for a pretty long time. The only ulterior motives I usually run into involve scamming another cupcake or juice box. 

On a side note, there are cupcakes here. I’ll get to them in a bit.

Advantages of being the ‘plus one’

Around us are the work people and various family members of the newlyweds. Everyone seems nice. I just have absolutely no connection to any of them. I am the “plus 1” — the rando guy who shows up just to judge you on the quality of your food and if there is free alcohol. I give this party a “plus 10.” There is free whiskey, pizza, and these ravioli things.

I go to these parties every year with my wife. During that time, I have become a master at blending in and small talk. I find it easy. There is no pressure here on me at all. My wife has to say all the right things, talk to the right people and basically not make a fool of herself. But me, I’m different. I have no one to impress. No one even knows who I am and my wife can safely distance herself from me at any moment.

I’m two glasses of whiskey in as I study the ravioli. It’s definitely got cheese in there.

Always be busy

My wife usually does a terrible job with me at these things. I don’t mean she embarrasses herself. I mean she forgets to introduce me. At the beginning of this party, she left me hanging, talking to some guy about hair dryers and steak. I love steak so it was all good. Hair dryers, not so much. My wife is in advertising so you would be surprised at the conversations that get linked together. Such as the meat hair dyers –both clients her company represents.

I have learned it is better to roam around and just introduce myself, networking for no other reason than practice. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Once you learn there are no real consequences for what you say, because these people will never see you again, I can crack jokes left and right all night. No accountability — that is how you survive a work party that’s not your own.

My wife is talking to the husband of a work friend about advertising. They are deep into shop talk since he also works in advertising. I nod at the appropriate places, maybe tell a joke somewhere, then get back to my happy place — the crusted ravioli. Now I think there is some meat in there. I should see if anyone has a hair dryer handy so I can use it to figure this ravioli out.

That’s the next thing I learned about how to survive my wife’s work parties: always appear busy. No one wants to be the odd duck sitting next to the wall appearing to do nothing, looking longingly at people having fun. So I usually find something to keep myself busy — like a mysterious fried ravioli. So many questions, so many things to discover. 

Size up the so-called competition

I met my wife’s boss at the beginning. Seems like a nice guy. Tall as a pine tree in rural Arkansas. A friendly smile, a manly handshake, and easily sized up. This is my next trick in how to survive work parties that are not yours — determining who I could take in a fight. I’m not a violent person, not at all. I just like the mental exercise of it. It keeps me busy while everyone else discusses whatever advertising deck they are preparing. Her boss is a tall guy so he probably has a pretty good reach. So I would have to close that distance and get to his legs. Once he is subdued, I can get to the ravioli.  Advertising people don’t look very tough, so throughout the years, I’ve decided that I could take most of them. Maybe not the meat hair dryer guy though. He looks serious.

I’ve eaten about eight of the ravioli things so far. My stomach feels full but I’m going to keep eating. I imagined a whole fake fight just to get to this point, so I better keep eating. Definitely meat and cheese in here.

My wife and her friends have started to discuss which companies are on the downswing. They are bringing up names of people I don’t know, doing jobs I had no idea existed. I wonder how much they bullshit each other at these things? Probably a lot. It’s sad that they don’t get a chance to truly taste the delicious ravioli.

Go out with a bang

Then I spy the cupcakes in the corner.

They are fancy too. Not normal cupcakes bought from the grocery store. These have been catered. They have only a wisp of frosting on the top. I think I see a red velvet one in there. I call dibs. I eat four of them before my wife announces it is time to go. I say goodbye to my ravioli and the experience that we shared. 

This is my last lesson on how to survive the spouse’s work parties. When it’s time to go, go out with a bang. Shake the hands, smile, and leave a lasting impression.

We say goodbye to our couple of friends. My wife says something in advertising or Klingon, I’m not sure which, and we head to the door. The bride is there! I haven’t met the bride yet. As usual, my wife doesn’t introduce us. So yeah, do my thing.

“Hi! Great party! Really lovely time. Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” she says. She really does look wonderful. Pure happiness on her face. But she also looks a bit confused. Who the hell is this guy with ravioli crumbs in his beard?  “I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet yet.”

“Nope. I’m a plus one. We should hang out next time. I’m very fun.”

As I leave, I hear one of the other guests start laughing asking, “Who was that?”

I’m basically a +1 ninja.

A version of this first appeared on Hossman At-Home. Survive work parties photo: ©Scott Griessel / Adobe Stock.