Few phrases my kids say break me down quite like, “Dad, I’m scared.” 

Most times, they say this about trivial things: the dark, their first soccer match, or an impending exam. My response comes easy in these cases. Usually, it’s nothing more than a pat on the head, a quick boost of confidence, and encouragement to keep trucking. 

When situations become more serious – like those my family experienced recently during Hurricanes Helene and Milton in Florida – parents have a massive responsibility.  The expectations for us to protect and serve our families rachets up immediately whether it’s a tornado warning, blizzard, a derecho, or, I suppose, a global pandemic. This is what I call “Disaster Daddin’.”

Disaster Daddin’ combines preparation and recovery. It boils down to one goal: to be the impenetrable force of stability for our loved ones. That does not mean we are not frightened or able to show vulnerability. No, this means that we embrace the family’s attention to get through the predicament together.

From our home in a suburb of Tampa, Fla., this month had me in Disaster Dad Mode far too often for my liking. 

While we were incredibly fortunate compared to others, helping my family get through a natural disaster taught me several important lessons in preparation and crisis parenting. 

1. Hurry causes worry

Every aspect of parenting through a disaster comes down to planning and preparation. A plan should not be hatched as all hell is breaking loose around you. If you have time to prepare, take it seriously. Work on it with your kids. This will not only distract them from the escalated concerns but also will help them when it’s time to execute it. Waiting until the last minute will stress the entire household out – especially the kids. Children are emotional sponges, easily sensing our stress and nervousness. 

Our disaster preparation before Hurricane Milton included my kids helping board windows on the house two days before the forecasted landfall.  At this point, this was more of a project than an emergency. My 12-year-old enjoyed the manual labor. This experience would have been far worse for everyone if done as a last-minute, “We need to do this NOW!”  situation. 

If the disaster does not provide adequate time to prepare, parents must step up. Your kids will pick up on the urgency and feel increased anxiety as a result.  Be aware that making unpredictable, last-minute decisions dials up household stress levels as go time draws nearer. 

2. Reinforce your responsibility to keep everyone safe

Whether you’re facing a hurricane or a blizzard, before the storm starts you should tell each family member this: “I would NEVER intentionally jeopardize your safety. Never.” 

When my family recently evacuated for Milton, I sensed my kids were nervous (if not fully freaking out) as we drove for hours to a spot my wife and I had determined to be safer. I acknowledged their fears while en route by telling them I was frightened, too. It became clear to everyone in the family minivan that we were in this together and that my wife and I would never take them toward anything deemed dangerous. 

3. Embrace spending time together in “old school” style

Disaster Daddin’ provides a great (if limited) way to do things with your children that have disappeared for many families. These include playing board games, coloring/drawing together or just talking. When we initially lost power, there was a 12-hour or so period where my teens were desperate to charge their phones. When it became clear that it might be a while before normalcy (i.e., electricity) would be restored, their priorities changed. 

From our powerless-but-safe hurricane crash pad, we played Uno, Sequence, charades, Pictionary and Scrabble together. Amazingly, even the teens were not constantly clamoring for TikTok or Snapchat (at least for a while). 

Disaster Daddin’ can provide the ultimate “back when I was your age” moment for parents. Assuming you remain safe, do not waste that unplugged time!

4. Celebrate your safety by helping others

For families that are relatively fortunate after a disaster, there is a tendency to return to normal as quickly as possible. My kids wanted to return to soccer practice and hanging with friends right away after Helene and Milton. While returning to our pre-disaster life was a priority, I did not want our kids to forget that some of our neighbors might not have such a luxury. 

As our area rebuilds, I’m encouraging my family to help in a way that suits them. For example, we had our kids reach out to their circle of friends to make sure they had (at least) what we did – food, water, clothes, etc. 

With our kids’ sense of community being mostly online now, the aftermath of a disaster allows us to reframe “us” to mean the people around us, not a YouTuber we connect to half a world away. 

Hearing “I’m scared, Dad” is the worst. I hope you never do. But, if you do (and you likely will), Disaster Daddin’ will help make your family stronger.

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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 Juan Pablo Serrano via Pexels.

I was wearing my trusty Columbia rain jacket. The sound of the rain on the hood was nearly deafening. I reached up to tie the drawstrings, but the wind snatched the beaded strand from my hand and smashed the bead into my tooth.

My head arched back in pain. This allowed the relentless wind to catch the hood and yank it violently off my head. Lateral rain immediately pelted my face, stinging like sleet, but I was in Florida. There’s no sleet in Florida.

I was in knee-deep water. Angry clouds whirled overhead. Broken branches and random debris filled the air. A cacophony of sirens, exploding transformers, and howling wind echoed off the low, tumultuous cloud layer. I could taste a little blood in my mouth from the drawstring hitting my gums, and the sheer absurdity of being outside as a Category 3 hurricane made landfall was not lost on me.

Milton is entirely too gentlemanly a name for a hurricane that tried to remove my family from the earth.

Ultimately, I fought a dozen tiny battles with Hurricane Milton. I’m proud to say that, despite not being the most handy fella, I was victorious. Sadly, we lost our tallest tree. A beautiful, healthy Live Oak, towering well over 40 feet. Lying on the ground, it was still taller than my neighbor’s house. When the mighty oak toppled, it took a few of my water pipes with it, flooding my driveway and threatening my garage. That’s why I ended up outside in the thick of it.

The house, although without power or water, emerged unscathed. While the overturned oak stump has left a scar in my front yard (and even the road – oopsie), the real scars are within.

Voluntary evacuation not an easy decision

Why didn’t I evacuate my three kids? Good question. I found myself asking as the apocalypse raged just outside our 40-year-old, non-hurricane-proof windows.

The wind finally died down around 2 a.m. or so. I was watching the movie Sabrina (the black and white, old-school version) on my wife’s laptop. It was supposed to be The Karate Kid. My wife assured me she had downloaded my favorite movie. She hadn’t. This was perhaps the most damaging blow I experienced during the storm. The kids were asleep. My heart rate had finally settled. It had been a long seven hours of scary wind, and an even longer several days of preparation and planning.

It was over.

I know. I know. Get to the, “Why didn’t you evacuate,” part.

If you haven’t been through a hurricane, it’s easy to view the evacuation decision as binary: storm — bad, leaving — good. It’s truly way more complicated than that. My wife and I made decisions, had an evacuation plan, had a hotel room booked several hours away, but by the time the storm did a last-minute, pain-in-the-ass wobble, we were stuck. There wasn’t much choice. Just 10 to 12 hours earlier, we were outside the cone of uncertainty, and it looked like we would just have a rainy day. Man, that didn’t happen.

I’ll never forget my 9-year-old daughter, crying in the dark, “Daddy, why didn’t we go to the hotel?”

I have some full-on apocalyptic reasons for staying. A car full of supplies and kids is a rather soft target. A house is a hard target I can defend. That’s a little dark, but that was one of my reasons.

Another reason to stay is to be able to control as many variables as possible. At home, I know what I have. I know my supplies. I know my neighbors. I have my tools, etc. Once you leave, you deal with the most terrifying variable of all: panicked humans. Honestly, I’d much rather tangle with the hurricane.

We also aren’t in danger of storm surge or flash flooding. If we were, I would’ve been sipping maple syrup somewhere in Canada. No way I’m rolling the dice with water. Ironically, we almost flooded because of a burst pipe. Had I not been here to battle the water, our garage would’ve flooded, and possibly even the rest of the house. It was dicey there for a while.

Mostly prepared for hurricane

This was a good test of my disaster preparation. I was happy with some of it, but Milton exposed some gaps, which I’m grateful to have discovered. Considering we could drive 20 minutes north and have power and water, this really wasn’t the most dire experience, but seeing the ripple effects of no gas and empty grocery shelves in the area was a solid reminder of how fast things go sideways.

I was prepared for all that. The major thing I missed was the immense pressure of having three tiny humans, who have blind faith in me, trusting me to make the best decisions. It was up to me to keep them alive. It was up to me to have food and water. It was up to me to keep what we had protected. As a veteran of at least a dozen hurricanes, this burden was much heavier than I had previously experienced. The kids changed everything.

As parents, we don’t have the luxury of winging it. Sure, most of the time it’ll be fine. You’ll have what you need when you need it. A little slip-up is not a major deal, but life can happen fast. Really, really fast. I’d encourage any parent reading this to take some time, real, thoughtful time, ensuring you’re ready for life going sideways. Check your water supply. Check your food rations. Have batteries. Candles. Download movies on the kid’s tablets (double check on The Karate Kid for yourself). Whatever the disaster preparation is in your area, take it seriously. Stop winging it.

I promise you don’t want to ever hear a sobbing kid questioning your choices during an actual disaster. The feeling of failure will never leave you. Take some time to be prepared.

Start with the bourbon. Oh, and rum. Rum’s great in a hurricane. 

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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 George Desipris via Pexels.

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.

Winter dad jokes exist to warm the cockles of every kid’s funny bone. Or is it to give our spouses yet another reason to give us the cold shoulder? Brrr! Did anyone else just get an icy shiver down the spine?

As a service to our readers (and a disservice to their friends, co-workers and relatives), we have scoured the internet for the best/worst winter dad jokes. They are family-friendly, kid-approved, good ol’ clean jokes.

So you want silly snowman? We got them! Skier jokes? We got a few! Groan-inducing puns? You betcha!

But wait — there’s more! After you finish these, check out our Christmas dad jokes and our New Year’s dad jokes. ‘Tis the season!

Enjoy!

Best (or is it worst?) winter dad jokes

Q. What do you call a snowman who vacations in the tropics?
A. A puddle.

Q. Why are snowmen great at parties?
A. They always know how to break the ice.

Q. What do you call a winter monster with six-pack abs?
A. The Abdominal Snowman.

Q. What did the first snowman says to the second snowman?
A. “I don’t know about you, but I smell carrots.”

Q. What falls in the winter but never gets hurt?
A. Snow.

Q. What do snowmen call their offspring?
A. Chill-dren.

Q. What is the best Mexican food to have during a frigid winter?
A. A brrrrr-rito.

A gingerbread man went to the doctor’s complaining of a sore knee. The doctor asked him, “Have you tried icing it?”

Q. How does a snowman get around town?
A. By icicle.

Q. Why did the girl keep her saxophone out in the snow?
A. Because she wanted to play cool jazz.

Q. What does a snowman take when he gets sick?
A. A chill pill.

Q. What do you call a slow skier?
A. A slope-poke.

Q. How do mountains stay warm in the winter?
A. They put on their snowcaps.

Q. What did the snowman say to the dog that relieved itself on the sidewalk?
A. “Icy what you did there.”

Q. Why did the boy only wear one winter boot?
A. There was a 50% chance of snow.

Q. Where do skiers go when they’re short on cash?
A. The snow bank.

Q. What’s a snowman’s favorite condiment?
A. Chilly sauce.

Q. What do trees say when winter finally ends?
A. What a re-leaf.

Q. What sort of cakes do snowmen like?
A. Ones with lots of icing.

Did you hear about the snowman spy? He has a license to chill.

Q. What do you call an old snowman?
A. A puddle.

Q. What kind of money do snowmen prefer? 
A. Cold hard cash.

Q. How did the snowgirl break up with the snowboy?
A. She gave him the cold shoulder.

Q. What did one snowflake say to the other?
A. “You’re one of a kind.”

Q. Why is Frosty never late?
A. Because time waits for snowman.

Best winter dad jokes photo: © Soloviova Liudmyla / Adobe Stock.

The news seems to be filled with tragic stories about one natural disaster after another these days. So are you prepared with an emergency family “go bag”?

A go bag goes by many names. It can be a “ready bag,” “bug out bag,” “disaster survival kit,” or an “emergency preparedness kit.” Whatever the name, every family should have one even if you don’t live in an area prone to wildfires, tornados or floods. When an emergency strikes, you do not want to be scrambling to gather essentials. You want them at the ready to keep you and your children safe and healthy if you need to make a quick get away from home for a few days.

What should be in your family go bag? First, it doesn’t have to be a bag though those are handy. Bins and boxes are also good. Second, it doesn’t all have a single bag, box or bin. Smaller containers that each family member can grab and go will work.

Now, let’s see what the experts in disaster preparedness recommend to pack.

Essentials for every family go bag

The Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, and American Red Cross each have recommendations for a basic emergency survival kit. Here’s the essentials for several days worth of bug out supplies:

• Water. Obviously, not easy to carry at the recommended amounts of one gallon of water per person per day. Keep some cases of bottled water or gallon jugs handy to toss in your car. Pack a resealable, reusable bottle for each family member, too.
• Non-perishable food. Packed cans? Don’t forget a manual can opener. Protein or granola bars, though, are more portable.
• Battery-powered or hand crank radio. Preferably get one with NOAA Weather Radio channels and an alert for severe weather bulletins. My own experience, living in hurricane zones all my life, is that battery powered radios tend to be more powerful and reliable as long as you pack …
• Extra batteries
• Flashlights
• Basic first aid kit. Various sized adhesive bandages, gauze, medical tape, antibacterial ointment, hydrocortisone are essential. Add an antihistamine (like Benadryl), ibuprofen and acetaminophen.
• Chargers and backup battery bank for cell phones
• Masks. These were initially recommended to help filter air contaminated from smoke or dust. Of course, COVID-19 has changed that some. Keep some N95 or KN95 masks handy as those can serve a dual purpose.
• Moist towelettes, soap, hand sanitizer
• Toiletries.
• Garbage bags and plastic ties (for sanitation)
• An all-purpose multitool. Get one with various knife blades, screwdriver heads, pliers, etc. I always keep one in my car’s glove compartment. It comes in handy in a pinch if not a crisis.
• Duct tape and super glue. Because, as every dad knows, if these can’t fix it …
• Local maps. Your phone’s mapping apps are useless if cell service is down.
• Cash. Power goes down, so do credit card machines.

Some other things to consider, depending on your location and time of year:

• insect repellant
• sunscreen
• blankets
• rain ponchos
• matches/lighter

Of course, a change of clothes and footwear for each person is also helpful.

Don’t forget personalization, pets

So much for the general items for every emergency go bag. Now let’s pay attention to the specific needs of your family members.

FEMA and the American Red Cross recommend a family go bag also contain:

• Personal medications and medical items. If you have a family member with a medical condition or need, such as insulin and syringes for a diabetic, extra batteries for hearing aids, reading glasses, etc.
• Baby supplies. Bottles, formula, baby food, diapers, wipes, pacifiers and a baby carrier are all vital.
• Pet supplies. Collar, leash, ID, food, carrier, bowl, meds, etc.
• Copies of personal documents. In a waterproof container, place medication lists and pertinent medical information, proof of home address, deed/lease to home, passports, birth certificates, insurance policies and so on. If paper copies are too bulky, put the documents on a USB thumb drive.
• Family emergency contact info. Keep a paper copy in a waterproof bag or container for handy reference.
• Extra set of car keys and house keys
• Games and activities for children. Keep in a separate bags the kids can carry on their own. For younger children, a stuffed animal or other security blanket item is a nice touch.

Ready? Grab you bag and go when told

A family go bag is only good if you take it with you in an emergency. Keep it in a handy location. Make sure all your family members are aware of where it is. And when authorities tell you to evacuate or leave, heed their call.

Photo: © SpeedShutter / Adobe Stock.

Youth baseball. A sport with varied skill levels. Some kids can knock the cover off the ball. Others have never put on a baseball glove before. You can tell these latter kids because they always put it on the hand they throw with.

Baseball is a sport with no time limit, no clock. The games could last forever. Literally.

It is a sport played outside, during the unpredictable weather of the spring. Games rarely get canceled, making for some interesting situations.

This season, those windy 40-degree days made me thankful for the other 165 hours of the week I wasn’t sitting in a cold lawn chair freezing at a youth baseball game. It made me consider bringing that Bailey’s Irish Cream leftover from St. Patrick’s Day. That stuff’s not going to drink itself, you know.

Even for the fans (parents) who didn’t like watching baseball, there was plenty of people-watching to be had. My favorite was the 6-year-old who had his own batting gloves, eye-black, bat, helmet and special baseball bag, and still did not know which side of home plate he was supposed to stand on while batting. I’m guessing the inside of his house looks like a Dick’s Sporting Goods. And that one of his parents is a baseball fanatic.

Of course, it wouldn’t be youth sports without a parent who coaches from the stands. This dude corrects every part of his kid’s batting stance, during a game, while the kid is batting.

I’m sure as much as I was watching other families, other families were watching our crew as well. We were the family with the wagon, several lawn chairs, a blanket, a snack and drink cooler, kid bikes and kid scooters. We were a traveling circus sideshow.

My daughters always “accidentally” sat in the wettest grass right at the beginning of the game or practice, too. This guaranteed complaining for the rest of the entire time. At games, I required them to wait until they’d seen their brother bat twice before they visited the concession stand. We gave them a limit of spending $4 each (their own money). The good news about all of this? They paid attention to the first couple of innings, and for eight bucks, our two girls could basically buy anything they wanted from the concession stand. A sleeve of powdered doughnuts at 2 p.m. on a Saturday? Why not?!?

As my son’s youth baseball season wraps up, it has been one his mom and I have enjoyed quite a bit. Even though it’s 40 degrees this week, there’s at least a 50 percent chance it will be 90 degrees next week. But, if it is cold those final weeks of the season, we could take advice from my son and “lay face down on the ground putting us close to the Earth’s mantle.” This, he says, will keep us warm.

Good grief. That kid’s not normal.

A version of this originally appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: Insight Imaging: John A Ryan Photography via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA.

We were recently paid a visit by a winter storm that brought heavy winds, plenty of snow. And, if reports are to be believed, a strong desire in people to stock up on leafy greens like they did to survive blizzard of 2015.

Seriously, I must be watching a different news network than the rest of this city because I don’t remember kale being an essential item to survive blizzard conditions. Everyone knows you need blankets, booze and whatever crappy snack food(s) you can buy in bulk. I’ve never been in a blizzard and questioned whether I was getting enough vitamins and minerals. Unless it was vitamin A (alcohol) or vitamin C (cupcakes), then I totally worried about those.

The problem with being stuck inside during a blizzard, especially with a 4-year-old, is figuring out what to do with all that time. One of the things I suggested was building a blanket fort in our living room.

Olivia had gotten her first taste of one of these during Christmas vacation, when she visited some family friends who had built a blanket fort for their kids inside their house. I only got to see pictures, but from the sounds of it they had everything covered: multiple passageways, WiFi, working bathrooms and even a Turkish district. Aside from the part where Olivia had a run in with a rogue clothespin that wanted to mangle her finger, she got a big kick out of the experience.

Build blanket fort, watch movies

Now that we’re back in Brooklyn and stuck inside, Olivia would like a blanket fort of her very own. A cool place where she can play with her toys, escape the stress of her 8-to-2 grind and continue her class action lawsuit against the family friends whose clothespin caused her so much emotional distress. She’s asking for $2 million, but I really think she should settle out of court for a pack of M&Ms and a box of apple juice.

After scrounging around our apartment, I came up with enough building materials to get the blanket fort thing started:

• 1 queen sized bed sheet
• 1 camera tripod (as a sort of tent pole)
• 2 chairs (for side support)
• assorted blankets of various weights to ensure blanket fort authenticity
• clothespins  (to secure item #1 to items #2 and #3)
• assorted land mines, machine gun nests and barbed wire for perimeter defense
• 1 4-year-old foreman (foregirl? foreperson? forepreschooler?)

I began by attaching the sheet to our living room couch to act as an anchor. After spreading the sheet out to determine how much I had to use, I raised the tripod up to its highest setting and pinned the sheet to it. Next I positioned the chairs on the sides, attached the sheet and added some blankets. Once that was set I dug the moat, placed the land mines and positioned the machine gun nests to create an optimal kill zone in case of intruders.

Fearing that the setup might be a little intimidating, I decided to soften it up a bit by setting out flowers, essential oils and cucumber water. I wanted this fort to say, “Keep Out! (But if you manage to make it past all of the booby traps then, by all means, take a load off and relax.)”

After adding some weight to the chairs and tripod to ensure that none of them would tip over, my tiny supervisor and I stepped back to admire our handiwork. Not a bad start if I said so myself (which I did numerous times).

Olivia, on the other hand, took a few puffs of her candy cigar, ashed on the rug and said, “It could use some stuffed animals and assorted toys of my choosing for you to step on.”

So I let her drag in a bunch of her things while I searched for another sheet and some blankets to continue the fort. As I started adding on I was gently notified by my tiny tenant that she couldn’t see the TV from inside the blanket fort, and that there were shows and movies to be watched that day. So I removed the additional materials and we went from building a badass blanket fort to building a badass blanket … amphitheater. Hey, at least the acoustics would be top notch if we ever hosted a live musical performance.

Survive blizzard in homemade amphitheater

We spent the day watching movies, playing and rousing a bit of rabble. Yet every so often Olivia would say, “I want to go outside and play in the snow.” I reminded her of the blizzard and that her tauntaun would freeze in these conditions, but she just gave me a mean glance, shouted, “Then I’ll see you in hell!” and rode out the door in search of Luke Skywalker. Just kidding. I told her we’d go out the next day once the storm passed and the Imperial troops had left the area.

We survive the blizzard for another day, so the three of us put on all of our snow gear and went out to enjoy the fruits of Mother Nature’s labor. Let me preface this by saying that a year ago our child wanted nothing to do with the snow. She’d take one look at it, spit on the ground and curse it as an abomination. Just one year later, she’s a proverbial snow bunny. She was laughing, playing and having a blast … until she face-planted in a snow mound. Then she was crying, sobbing and begging us to get the snow off her face. We wiped her off, checked to make sure she was OK and then turned away so Olivia couldn’t see us snickering over what had just occurred.

The rest of our time outside was really special, because this was the first time in Olivia’s life where she was into playing in the snow. We got to teach her how to make snow angels, how to pack a proper snowball, what color of snow was ok to eat and what types of wine go well with it. It’s an incredible feeling to be there helping your child learn during those moments, because you’re helping them build a foundation that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Who knows, maybe someday Olivia will need to pass these skills on to her own children. Someday she may be stuck inside during a blizzard wondering how to pass the time. I hope she’ll remember these moments we shared together fondly and say, “It’s time for Mommy to show you how to build a badass blanket amphitheater.”

A version of Survive Blizzard first appeared on Our Little Mixtape.

What do the fathers of City Dads Group do when a blizzard (kinda) hits their fair metropolis? Some of our NYC Dads Group fathers explain, in words and photos, how they handled the approach, arrival and aftermath of this week’s Winter Storm Juno.

We go sledding.

“On snowy days, we either commute to school or do pick-up via sled. Here I am bringing my son home from school as Snowmageddon 2015 kicked off.” — Lance Somerfeld

We get them gear and explore

“When I looked out the window … the snow was very light so I put my son in the cushy Bugaboo and went for a walk down to the soccer field at Asphalt Green. The wind was blowing off the East River and was bitter cold so decided to head back home.” — Brandon Garcia

We catch snowflakes on our tongues

“With Sienna still being so young, it fills me with joy to just watch her catch snowflakes on her tongue. Later, we’ll go out and see what’s higher – Sienna or the snow piles.” — Lorne Jaffe

We build mountains to conquer

We build snowpeople

“We had a brief snowball fight on the sidewalk and then did some street sledding (which turned out to be great exercise for Daddy). After we met up with neighbors, we played in the snow together with their kids, and eventually built a ‘Snow Princess Jedi’ (equipped with a wand and mini light saber). Once we were frozen, we returned inside for lunch (grilled cheese). My younger daughter refused to nap and so we let the girls watch a movie. All in all, a great day!” — Ariel Chesler

We make snow angels

When it’s too cold out, we read, sing and cook with them

“Snowed in on a Tuesday. Jake’s not in the mood to go sledding. What to do? What to do?

“Wake up.

“Serve ‘His Highness’s’ breakfast. French toast with maple syrup, sprinkles, and cinnamon. Got that?

“Read children’s books.

“Color by numbers.

“Sing silly songs like ‘Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Snow!’ Gotta love Jerry Lee Lewis.

“Watch Peppa Pig and Tickety Tock.

“Hop on Pop. No. Not Dr. Seuss’s Hop on Pop. Jake’s actually hopping and jumping up and down on my chest right now. I think he cracked one or two of my ribs.

“Speaking of ribs … What’s for lunch?” — Jason S. Grant

All this snow that’s been relentlessly pelting us here in the New York City area has made this 39(ish)-year-old feel nostalgic.

So, parents — gather your kiddies ’round.

I wanna tell them about the New York City snow days in the winters back when I was their age. In the disco/new wave era.

Oh, it was a golden time. Golden, I tells ya! Even if in those days the Times Square snow was tinted smog gray and filled with filthy Three-Card Monte hustlers.

There was no SuperDuper HyperLocal Quintuple Doppler Radar back then. Nope, it was guesses based on the visible growth of Ed Koch’s nose hairs. That bit of “meteorology” and the hair spray fog from Studio 54 punching a hole in the ozone resulted in the adults sitting around all day, warming their hands around a mug of tepid Chock Full o’ Nuts, complaining about how the weathermen had overhyped yet another storm that never materialized.

Yes, whippersnappers, I said “men.” None of these zaftig chippies thrusting their occluded fronts all up in your face like today — no siree, Bob Newhart!

(What? Your name’s not Bob. It’s Madison? Your folks name you after the mermaid in Splash or something?)

Back then, to be a TV weather prognosticator in The Big Apple you had to be a man. A man’s man. You also had to have a goofy first name like Tex or the last name Field – sometimes both.

Snow days with a snowy TV picture

‘Course we only had seven channels back then. Moreover, the news was only allowed to be reported at meal times or right before bed. That’s how we stayed so thin back then: highly concentrated doses of calorie-burning, media-induced agita.

After the weather bogeymen frightened the bejeezus out of us all, mom would scurry us down to the Pathmark so we could purchase every last loaf of bread, carton of eggs and gallon of milk we could find.

Why? Why to make the French toast, wisenheimer! Mounds of it!

What for? Why we’d toss the French toast onto the snow- and slush-covered streets so our rear-wheel drive cars could get some traction. You youngins don’t know how lucky you are these days, what with your fancy 4×4 SUVs and your microwavable Aunt Jemima!

Broadcasters weren’t always scaring us about the snow and other natural disasters, though. Sometimes they’d magically transmit the most wholesome of entertainment like post-Somers Three’s Company and pre-McGinley Love Boat.

Huh? What do I mean by “magically transmit”?

Well, before your fiber-optic digital hoo-has arrived, we had to have these oversized potato mashers screwed onto the roof of our houses. These would transmogrify invisible electrostatic streams of Technicolor goodness into a big honkin’ cathode ray tube that was housed in a wooden crate the exact size, shape and weight of one of those Acme safes Road Runner was always dropping on Wile E. Coyote. Ah, they don’t oversaturate afternoon programming with genuine cartoon violence like that anymore, Junior. That’s why you’re so soft.

Then the cable man came to town. That was the end of it. In came the Weather Channel. The HBO. The sticking of the tin foil through the vents in the back of the box to sneak a peek of a partially descrambled Playboy Channel movie. Shocking. Literally. So I’ve heard.

All the children started staying in at night, zombified by that there were 100 channels of Tee-Vee. They were glued to the front of the tube instead of going out to do some good ol’ fashioned rabble-rousing, like looting the Crazy Eddie while hopped up on hormones and Pop Rocks.

Bah, that’s what passes for progress nowadays, I guess.

What’s that?

Oh, right. The subject was winter when I was a kid.

So for days we’d hear all this “storm of the century” jabber on the airwaves, and you know what? We’d get seven flakes of snow. Seven! Except on the Upper East Side. The hot air there would keep it down to an even four.

It’d stay so warm even the Turtle Pond in Central Park wouldn’t freeze. Not that it could anyway, what with all the chemicals from the Big Mac clamshell containers we tossed in there. But instead of thanking our lucky stars, we’d just grumble about those nincompoop forecasters who got us riled up for nothing.

Good times. Good times. Snow days be damned.

Well, looks like another 18 inches has fallen outside. Now you, kids — get off my stoop! I mean it. Unless one of you wants to dig through the snow bank for my copy this morning’s paper. Newspaper. You know, the thing all yer Internet sites steal their information from.

So, any of you want to help an old-timer out? If you do, I’ll gives ya a shiny Susan B. Anthony dollar.

A version of this first appeared on Always Home and Uncool.

Editor’s Note: For many of us in the Northeast, the past month has been a rough one. We know Hurricane Sandy has tested us in so many ways so we had to share this heartfelt story by NYC Dads Group member and guest blogger, Wayne Schatzel, as he has the ultimate bonding experience with his daughter during the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.