Daddy, Stop Talking! And Other Things My Kids Want but Won't Be Getting

I guess I must have been so busy I missed the Evite. I don’t begrudge them enjoying their time; I just want acknowledgment for my part in making it possible for them. I’ve always said when people ask me about career goals that I would like to be successful enough to enjoy the life my wife and kids have.

So my kids will eventually get their wish and Daddy will stop talking, due to the massive coronary I suffer from busting ass to provide for them. With that in mind I’d like to use this book to also lay down some fatherly wisdom they’ll need when hitting those big life events — specifically buying your first car, buying your first house, and hitting puberty — since I won’t be around to dispense it. Think of it as mediocre parenting from beyond the grave. The sections specifically for So

And you, dear reader, may also see these graphics.

This is to let not just So

And…

This is to signify my ideas: all the apps, gadgets, products and systems that I’ve come up with to make parenting, or just life in general, better.

I hope that all you readers dig these concepts and inventions because again I’m sure when it comes to So

CHAPTER 2

Your Home Is Not Your Castle

THE HOUSE THAT the kids were first brought back to from the hospital was a 1929 Spanish-style home. It was more than a fixer-upper. I did a meticulous, total nut-and-bolt restoration of that place. I painstakingly turned it into a centerfold for Architectural Digest. It was a museum to my cars and monument to my craftsmanship. It even had a name: Vista del Lago. When your house has a name, you know you’ve arrived. But when the twins came along, all that shit went out the window. When you have children the idea that a man’s home is his castle no longer applies. Your home just becomes a place to store their crap.

When you have kids, your castle becomes their bouncy castle. In my case, this is literally true. Jimmy Kimmel bought So

It’s nice having rich friends who can blow a bunch of money on great gifts for your kids, but it really makes you look like a loser. I’m positive that my kids are secretly pla

I didn’t have the space for the bouncy castle, and, in order to simultaneously go for the World’s Coolest and World’s Worst Dad title, I moored it to the pool. Before you call child protective services, the fan was off to the side, so they wouldn’t get electrocuted. I’m not a monster.

Technically, you can’t have an orgasm at age six, but when he saw this setup, So

This thing literally covered my pool for a month, but at least I knew where it was. Usually, I find my kids’ crap by stepping on it in the middle of the night.

Ugh. Legos. I’m happy So

So

Not only did I think Legos would go the way of dodos, I can’t believe how long ninjas have hung on. Once the gun was invented, shouldn’t our fascination with the ninja have ended? Yes, you have a black belt. But is that belt thick enough to stop this bullet, bitch? So

If it’s not Ninjago spears piercing the soles of my feet, it’s a fake spider or rattlesnake freaking me out when I stumble around half-drunk in the middle of the night. What happened to robots and rocket ships? I’m not going to head downstairs for my third tumbler of Mangria and think a miniature robot broke into the house. But if I see the fake rattlesnake in the dark through my boozy filter, I’m going to attack it with a mop handle.

So

So finding the kids’ stuff is very easy when they lose it. Just take off your shoes and walk around in the dark, and you’ll find every Ninjago spear and fake tarantula you’ve ever paid for. But you know what I can’t find? My shit.

As a parent, you can fill your house with toys, as I have, and the kids will still go for every item you want them to leave alone. Their favorite toy when they were two was my alarm clock. They were constantly messing with it. They’d take it down, pull the plug, remove the batteries, take a leak on it and beat it with bats like Joe Pesci and his brother at the end of Casino. My house looked like a Gymboree, but they were still attracted to the only thing that I needed them to not screw with. It was either the alarm clock or the universal remote. (Which I still think should come with a button that you hold for four seconds to put in lock mode. That way kids can’t go monkeying with it.) The twins’ hit list of shit to mess with when they were terribly two was: #1 my alarm clock, #2 my universal remote, #3 the wrapper from my wife’s protein bars, #4–#9 anything I didn’t want them to play with and #10 their toys.