Share and Share Alike

High up on the list of lessons parents have to teach their kids again and again and again is how to share.  They get it, but they don't get it.  They need constant reminding;  it's a process.

So when your kid takes the initiative and makes a move to share on his or her own, it can be a cause for celebration.  It happened recently with my 4-year-old daughter, and it was a banner day.

I had picked up her and a companion of hers from summer camp, and we were on the subway.  They're good friends, but they have a toddler rivalry going on:  who's "first" at any given function...  first out the door, first to say something, first to suggest an activity, whatever.  It's exhausting, but it's what toddlers sometimes do.

We'd gotten on the subway to return home, and whether we take the train or the bus, the desired seat is always the window seat (never mind that the window seat on the subway equals darkness for the majority of the ride).

On this trip, it was my daughter's turn for the window seat, but since they were very tired from an active day at camp -- and therefore both on the brink of breakdown -- I told them that my daughter would start with the window seat since it was her turn, but that they'd switch halfway through the trip.  They agreed.

Soon after the first stop, I looked at my daughter, and she shot me a funny face -- one I couldn't quite place.  She then looked at her friend and proceeded to make the move to let her friend have the window seat.

It was awesome.  She hadn't taken that kind of initiative before on a sharing issue.  I was so proud of her, and I told her so.  She smiled.

That's it.  It was fabulous.  When your kid surprises you with good behavior like that, you take it, praise the child, then move on.

It was a good day.

Me Time

"I want to be alone!"

That came out of my 4-year-old's mouth a couple of months ago, and I wasn't quite ready for it. 

You get used to your kids needing you for absolutely everything:  eating, sleeping, pooping, you-name-it.  So when I heard those words, it kind of stopped me in my tracks for a few seconds.  Of course, I complied.  I'm no fool -- who wants trouble with a 4-year-old?

We encourage our daughter to do things on her own for various reasons, and she has always been fine entertaining herself with Lego, puzzles, and Play-Doh.

But this was different.   She and I were playing with her princess collection (yes, she has a princess collection), when she suddenly asked me without any provocation if she could continue on her own.  She said she needed to put the princesses to bed.

I'll admit that in my mind, I reviewed what had just happened -- Cinderella said this, then Ariel said that -- and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  It was just regular conversation between two princesses.  So I asked, "You want to play alone for a while?" -- just to make sure I had understood her.  She said, "Yes."

That was that.  Since then, it's been happening once or twice a week.  It could be when she's made a "bed" somewhere in the house and wants to "sleep," or when she's coloring. 

I guess I'm starting to get used to it -- and I'm certainly thankful that she has an independent streak -- but it still bums me out on occasion, especially when I'm having fun with her.  I mean, who wouldn't want to know what Snow White talks about with Sleeping Beauty?

So sometimes our daughter needs "alone time" from her Daddy or Mommy, or her 19-month-old brother...  or perhaps all of us.  It's perfectly understandable, but it reminds me that as she gets older, the amount of time she's going to want to be left alone is only going to increase.  And I already miss her.

For now, I can always just go grab my son.  He still needs me for stuff -- just about all the time.

When does your child ask to be left alone?

How to Handle Mealtime Malaise

You sit down for dinner.  You place your toddler's favorite plate with portions of five different foods in front of her.  Then comes:  "I don't like any of this!  I never liked any of this!"

Forget that she's eaten three of those five items within the past 24 hours, without incident.  Right now, she hates all this stuff.

What do you do?  Here are six suggestions that have hit more than missed at our table.  Maybe they'll work at yours:

1.  Prepare the same stuff a different way.

I've cut up an apple dozens of different ways:  with skin, without skin, square chunks, thin sticks, slices with jagged edges, you name it.  My 4-year-old daughter's consistent favorite?  "Daddy's thinnest apple slices ever!" -- they work every time.

2.  Let your child help make the meal.

This one works when our daughter isn't tired.  She loves to help prepare food, whether it's just for her or for the whole family.

3.  Act like a clown.

I can't even describe to you how much of a fool I've made of myself, in order to distract my daughter or son from the task at hand.  One thing this method will always accomplish is remind you that you'll go to unreasonable lengths to solve a kid problem.

4.  Offer up whatever's on hand in the kitchen as a distraction.

This one's in the same camp as #3, but is for a younger child.  Here's some stuff that works for our 19-month-old son:  small metal measuring cups, cookie cutters, and his older sister's princess utensils (assuming she's not around).  He immediately plays with these objects, then starts munching away at whatever's in front of him.

5.  It's all in the delivery.

I discovered this on my own, then saw it recommended by others.  For our 4-year-old, I'll suggest a weird way to eat something, like munching on lettuce like she's a rabbit, or first eating the outside edge of a ravioli, then the middle.  It's even easier for the 19-month-old.  I'll lay down an undulating row of blueberries, or stack four to five pieces of fiori pasta on top of each other.  He looks at the weird food pattern, then at me, and then starts chowing down.

Do you have any good tricks for getting your fussy child to eat?

What I'm In For, Part 1

So there I was, hanging out with a bunch of fellow parents, as their 13- and 14-year-old boys were cruising around a hotel, causing a little trouble.

None of them were mine, so I didn't have much to worry about.  I was visiting my nephew and brother-in-law at a baseball tournament.  Spirits were high since their team had done very well to get into the competition.  Plus, they were hanging out at a hotel with a pool.

My son is only 19-months old, so I have a different set of worries in the "boy behavior" department.  Stuff like:  Is he ever going to eat anything that has protein in it?  And:  Will he and his older sister have a positive relationship?

But observing these kids provided me a window into the world of the young male teen, or at least part of it.  There weren't too many young women their age around, so I didn't get the full range of behavior, but I think I now have a better picture of what's ahead of me.

There was a lot of racing through the hallways and the parking lot, and an occasional gang-up on somebody, but for the most part, the kids all seemed to get along just fine.  Like many parents, I worry about the potential for bullying (which I didn't see during this trip).  My wife and I hope some well-taught self-confidence will keep that at bay.

So I wondered, What kind of trouble will my boy cause?

If he gets into the kinds of messes I got into, he'll probably (for the most part) be okay.  I was generally well-behaved in my younger years -- at least, that's what my Mom told me -- but I really don't know how big a part genetics plays in the behavior department.

My son is certainly more aggressive than my 4-year-old daughter, but that's generally considered a bit of a given, considering gender.

I figure if the behavior of those boys in the hotel is any indication, things should be fine.  It was just testosterone making a typical appearance.  As mentioned, it was mostly just a whole lot of running around.  I also heard a group of them got kicked out of the hotel's pool at one point, but that's no big deal, as long as there wasn't an ambulance involved.

Then again, only the teens know everything that went on in that building.  As my brother-in-law put it, "What happened in that Residence Inn, stays in that Residence Inn."

Are you worried about the trouble your kids might get into?

Cleaning Out The Closet

Over the weekend, I decided to go through our kids' clothes.  They share a dresser, and between the two of them, despite Daddy's decent organizational skills, every one of the six drawers was so stuffed, they could barely be closed.  My wife and I had put off the job for long enough -- it was time.

I decided to take on the task solo.  My better half is better suited for it, since I'm awful at eyeballing a shirt or a skirt and determining whether or not it still fits one of our children, but I wanted to give her a break.  I'd go through everything, then let her make the final call.

With our 18-month-old son, it's always been easy:  the only issue is whether something fits him.  He's 18-months old:  he wears whatever we stuff him into.

But our 4-year-old daughter makes the whole wardrobe thing a different animal.

She's developed a signature look (weather permitting):  a short-sleeved shirt over a long-sleeved shirt, on top of leggings and a skirt.  She likes a variety of colors, but they're usually coordinated.  Thankfully, she's been backing off the "It has to be pink!" ledge as of late.

It's a rare day that she deviates from this outfit, and she tends to wear the same items over and over again (kind of like her Dad does).  So I decided to include her in the weeding-out process, figuring since the clothes she prefers are so specific, it'd make things easy.

I was right.  She basically hung on to all her favorite stuff, and rejected everything else.  Of course, I decided to keep a selection of the dumped items, knowing they'd be needed at some point.  But she's a strong-willed kid, and we know that there's a good chance she'll never wear some of the things that I'd chosen to keep.

This all got me thinking:  How are these kids going to dress when they get into high school?  Will there be any battles?

I'm guessing the answers are:  Who knows?  and:  Of course.

I wondered just how much trouble might be ahead in my daughter's case.  She doesn't really wear anything out of the ordinary, considering she's 4-years-old:  the occasional full-on ballerina outfit to school, or a favorite pajama top outside once in a while.  There's also the official Snow White costume from last Halloween that sometimes finds its way to a birthday party, but that's all normal.

Will my wife and I have to send her back to her room to try again, after she shows up in something a bit too skimpy for 8th grade?  Maybe.

But she's a good kid and a little shy.  I suspect there won't be trouble.  But who knows what will happen once she's faced with somebody she's attracted to.

What's the most outrageous thing your kid has worn outside your home?

Mini-Male Bonding

I'd waited a long time for a solid male-bonding moment with my son.  Well, at least for most of his now 18-month-old life.

He's been a Mama's boy for a long time.  It's understandable, of course, what with the whole 9-months-in-the-tummy thing, as well as the only-source-of-sustenance thing.  But food-wise, he's been on his own for a while, and all things considered, he's now a pretty darn good, independent eater.

I'd expected more of a connection with him earlier, but it never really came.  Don't get me wrong;  he's a sweet, loving kid, very free with the hugs.  But when there was a serious comforting issue that needed tending, Mommy was the destination, and usually still is.

He'd pop out in a moment of need, take one look at me, then make a beeline for his mother's leg.  It was a rare instance that I'd been able to comfort him completely.

Except at bedtime.  For some reason, he prefers me when it's no longer time to communicate with his family for the day.  I'm great at putting him down.  Mommy at bedtime equals playtime.

I'd had my turn at the kid preference thing, though.  Our now 4-year-old daughter was a Daddy's girl for a long time.  My wife recently reminded me of the time our child raced for me, after Mommy and Daddy returned from a three-day trip without her -- her first significant separation from us.

Now, our daughter seesaws between us equally.  So my wife and I both know what it feels like to be the "chosen one."

So there we all were, one recent day, at a neighborhood park.  Our daughter was playing on the grass with a ball.  I was expecting our son to gravitate toward either her or his Mommy, per usual.  He of course wants to do everything his sister does (which got him walking earlier, but also invades her privacy, as she often points out).  He typically romps with her, then takes a break with Mommy, periodically throwing me a hug or a smile.

But this time, he chose to hang out with me.  He came over and started grabbing and yanking on a nearby chain-link fence, an action that felt very male to me.

It lasted a while, and felt good.  It got me envisioning a classic father-son activity that's sure to come:  tossing a baseball back and forth (though I think I'd prefer it to be a Frisbee).

After about 10 minutes, he went over and stole the ball our daughter was playing with, and we were back to the way playtime usually goes.

But I got those 10 minutes, and it finally felt like there would be a lot more to come.

What have you considered to be a good bonding moment with your child?

"Time flies!"

"Time flies," everybody says.  They sure as hell got that right.

I can't tell you how many times fellow parents with kids older than mine have advised me, "Enjoy this age -- it'll go by fast!" or say, "You'll blink and they'll be leaving for college!"

The first couple of dozen times, I smiled and nodded -- kind of believing it, but also kind of not, considering all the crying I've heard, diapers I've changed, and toddler negotiating I've done.  This toddler phase seems to last an eternity.

But last night, my wife and I were on a bus, after a rare event sans children, and we simultaneously spotted a very cute baby, looking our way from her guardian's lap a couple of seats up from us.

A woman in the seat directly in front of us was making loud, silly utterances, trying to engage with the child, so I'm guessing this kid was used to being a hit.

I made a comment to my wife about all those times people have told us how fast children grow up.  It sounded weird, since one of our kids is only 18-months-old, and the other is 4-years-old.  We remembered our experiences from back when they were the age this child was:  about 5 months.

It was a lot of work.  Not that it isn't a lot of work now, but at least they can transport themselves and communicate -- though the communication thing can be challenging at times.

We got a little nostalgic about all the time and energy that's gone into helping our kids understand and navigate their world.  I like to think we've given them a good start.

So there we were, both thinking how big our son -- only a year and a half into his life -- was getting.  The next second, we both started laughing at how ridiculous that seemed, but how true it actually was.

One minute, he was cooing, getting swaddled and requiring night feedings...  the next he was calling for Mommy and Daddy, drinking from a sippy cup and proving to us that he could be the angriest 2-foot-tall dude in a diaper and tyke-sized tennis sneakers that ever existed.

So does time seem to be flying by?  Yeah.  It feels like we reached this crazy, unpredictable toddler phase way too fast.  The good parts are great, but the tough stuff seems to last a very, very long time.  We try to focus on the good stuff.


Do you feel like your child is growing too fast?

Going Bananas

Getting a kid to eat a balanced meal can be a challenge.

Not always, but during those stretches that it's a problem, you worry.  Is my child getting enough nutrients?  Should we go organic?  (Or, I guess I mean:  Should we go more organic than milk and the occasional piece of fruit?)

Then there's the bigger picture...  Forget about what the they're eating.  Are they getting enough food into their stomachs to stay alive?

After much suffering for a few years, and some consultation with fellow parents, I've decided to just go with the flow.  I now operate under the assumption that any eating issue that either of my kids has is temporary, and will eventually resolve itself.

Take our 4-year-old daughter.  She has long runs of "loving" a certain food, then "hating" it.

For example, she has loved bananas for as long as I can remember.  They're obviously a great infant munchable, and she just kept chowing them as she grew.  We keep bananas stocked as one of our go-to foods, since they're also good for her little brother.

But about two weeks ago, she declared, "I don't like bananas."  "Since when?" I responded.  "Since forever.  I never liked bananas."  Really?  Okay.  No more bananas.  I wasn't about to engage her;  I've learned that's a good way to make your brain's synaptic connections do things they're not supposed to do, and slowly cease to function.

Then a couple of days ago, my daughter suddenly said she wanted a banana.  "You're sure?" I asked.  "Yes, I love bananas.  I've never even had a banana."  Well, yeah you have -- probably hundreds of them.

At any rate, we didn't have any at home for our son at the time, so of course my response was:  "Okay, we'll get some more, next time we go the store."

Cut to the following trip for groceries, my daughter in tow.  I pick up a bunch of bananas, with her approval.

Cut to the next meal opportunity.  I offer her a banana.  She rejects it.

End Scene.  Or I guess that'd be End Act at this point.

So it's back to square one on bananas.  I'm sure they'll eventually come back into her favor.

Just yesterday, she told me she loved pears.  So I'll be picking up a couple on my next food run.

But let's face it...  I'm pretty sure I'll be eating pears next week.


If your kid doesn't eat well, how are you handling it?

He's Just Not That Into Me... Yet.

My kid hates me.  Well, not really.  But sometimes it sure feels that way.

I'm talking about how a child (young ones -- we thankfully have a while before the teen attitude years) will favor one parent over the other, often for months on end. 

That's what's currently going on in our household.  When Mommy and Daddy are standing together in front of our 17-month-old son, Mommy gets the nod every time.

Don't get me wrong.  Our son is a loving, sweet kid who's very generous with hugs and smiles.  It's just that Mommy always gets them first.  Then maybe Daddy gets a little something.  It apparently depends on his mood.

But if he's upset, I'm chump change, like he's not quite even sure who I am.  To paraphrase a joke that my wife and I heard Jerry Seinfeld tell on his current standup tour, the kid will enter a room, see Daddy sitting on a couch, then say to him, "Can I help you with something?" -- like he was just visiting.  The truth hurts!

Believe you me, I've tried to win his attention.  Nothing works, not even Teddy Graham bribes.  He takes them with a smile, then goes back to Mommy.

Our son does toss me a bone at night.  That's when things change.  He prefers Daddy for bedtime.  Or maybe I should say, he doesn't cry at bedtime when he sees me.

We have a bedtime routine with books, but if I want to -- or if things are running late -- I can put him down in about five minutes flat.  So apparently our child picks me when he's ready not to see everyone for a while.

I take this as a point of pride, because basically, it's all I have right now.  I'm the "baby whisperer," or "toddler whisperer."

But of course I know the reality of the situation.  Even though there's a whole lot of yelling when Mommy puts him to bed, we know why.  When Mommy's with him, he doesn't want to go to sleep;  he wants to hang out.

Plus, the nighttime preference is a bit of a curse.  If he wakes up in the middle of the night, it has to be me who goes in to deal with him, for obvious reasons.  If my wife walked in there, he'd start setting up shop for playtime, asking for milk and some toys.

My wife and I consider this a kind of payback, for all those wee-hour feedings she had to handle for both our children when they were infants.  She definitely put in her time, so now it's my turn.

Full disclosure:  I've been the "chosen one" before.  The tables were turned when our daughter was about the same age our son is now.  She's 4 years old, but for nearly a year back then, she was indeed "Daddy's Girl."  It felt good -- real good -- although I had sympathy for my wife, who had to handle the rejection.

But that was then.  This is now.  I need that kid to bond with his Dad.  Then again, with two children constantly racing around the home, maybe I should enjoy the break.


Do you feel like you've bonded with your child?

To Sleep Or Not To Sleep: Do I Have a Choice?

They're three of the most dreaded words the parent of a young child can hear:  Cry it out.

Let me report this right off the bat:  My wife and I are adherents of the "cry it out" method, and we've practiced it on both our children.  So if you don't agree with Dr. Ferber or Dr. Weissbluth and would rather not hear about it, you can bail now.

But you shouldn't worry, I won't be advocating for "cry it out" as the sole solution here.  Every parent has a set of beliefs and a way of doing things.  What works for one child -- and that child's Mom and Dad -- is not guaranteed to work for another.

Furthermore, the truth of the matter is that neither "cry it out" nor any other magical sleep solution you may hear about will solve all sleep problems.  At least, not in my home.

We have actually tried multiple sleep training methods with both our kids.  They're trying to figure out how to sleep, just like we're trying to figure out how to best get them to sleep.  No matter how well one way works, it won't work all the time.

What CIO did do was set an expectation for our kids at an early age that they needed to learn to go to sleep on their own, even when they didn't want to.  It worked great for kid #1, but kid #2 has a mind of his own.

Kid #1 is our 4-year daughter, who adopted the CIO method in just one night --  about 15 minutes, to be exact.  We had expected the worst.  We were in a one bedroom apartment at the time (not recommended with a kid in the picture, let alone two) and on the night in question, we grabbed pillows and sheets, and set up camp on some couch cushions in the living room.  We assumed we'd be there all night.  Our daughter -- now the sole occupant of the master bedroom -- started wailing, and when we went in to make sure nothing serious was afoot, we found that she had chucked her blanket on the floor.  She was in the process of reaching for it through the slats in her crib.

We picked up the blanket, handed it to her, and left.  10 minutes later, she was out like a light.  That was it.  We revisited the CIO practice a few times after that, but after about the eight-month point, if our daughter woke up crying, then there was a real problem, like an illness.

It just so happens Kid #2 is quite an operator -- highly skilled at the art of getting us out of bed.  After our generally positive experience with our daughter, we figured we'd try "cry it out" with our son.  The initial run lasted a few more nights than his sister's did, but it worked.  Since then, however, we've had a lot of nights where the 17-month-old wakes up for no good reason -- at least, no good reason we can come up with.

Sometimes a runny nose will appear in a day or two, so then we know why he'd been up:  he was getting sick and felt like crap.

On other days, however, we've determined we're getting played:  The second he emerges from the bedroom, the tear machine turns off and he's all smiles, ready for some playtime.  It's like a happy/sad switch being flicked.  "Cry enough and they'll get me up so I can hang," he seems to be telling himself.

The reality is your kids are going to get you up -- often.  They'll toss stuff out of their cribs and eventually figure out a way to climb out of the thing on their own.  And just when you think you've licked one problem, or have survived another developmental milestone, something else kicks in.  Like night terrors.  Or teething.  Or talking.  Really.  These kids just don't seem to slow down.

Fortunately, my wife and I were always in agreement on the "cry it out" practice.  It's not easy hearing your child scream at the top of her or his lungs, but it helps if you truly think it'll get you a kid who sleeps better.  It's nice to be in sync with your partner.  That way, you can cling to each other when it sounds like all unholy hell has broken loose just two minutes after you've put your child to bed.

But having kids means, for a few years at least, you aren't going to sleep well.  So get some chamomile tea, take a bath, and hit the hay early.  It's going to be a long night.


How do you feel about the "cry it out" method?

The Beginning of the End of Innocence?

It happened this past Easter Sunday.  Our first child set a new upper limit for testing parental boundaries, and in the process, threw her Daddy into a quandary.

Our 4-year-old daughter has certainly told her share of white lies:  "I only watched one 'Curious George.'"  "We did wash my hair last night."  Those are of no concern.  But kid deception had up until now not been on our radar screens.

Here's how it went down.  Mommy was out of the house somewhere with kid #2.  Daddy was taking a shower.  Things were quiet.  Too quiet.  I'd heard a door shut, which signals our daughter wants "to be alone" for a bit.  It usually indicates she's setting up a family in a new Lego home, or putting together an art show of princess drawings.  We're fortunate in that she's very independent and imaginative.  She'll latch on to a project of her own invention and be good for an hour or two, easy.

When I emerged from the bathroom, she had just exited her bedroom.  She was using both her arms to cradle her oversize Easter basket, while her right hand was balled up in a fist, concealing something.  When she saw me, she got deer-caught-in-headlight eyes.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said.  She quickly made her way to a garbage can and deposited the contents of her hand.

I figured the key to this little mystery was now inside that can, so I checked it out.  Bingo:  two candy wrappers -- both from chocolate items.

Now we're certainly not an anti-candy household.  In fact, if our children decide to apply the "lead by example" theory to the eating habits of Mom and Dad, they'll both be quite familiar with dentists' offices a little ways down the road.

Plus it was Easter Sunday, for crying out loud.  She had just found her basket hidden in a closet earlier that day, filled with plastic eggs, candy, and a new pair of pink ballet slippers.  We have a place where her candy intake from parties, Halloween, etc. goes, and her Easter haul hadn't yet made the trip.

So there it all was -- gummies, jellybeans and chocolate bunnies -- staring at her from that big basket, in a room with no brother, Mommy or Daddy present.  It doesn't matter if you're a kid or an adult -- feasting on Easter candy on Easter Day is what you're supposed to do.

I think what bothered me was that her inclination was to suppress the fact that she had just chowed some chocolate, instead of simply saying, "I just had some candy from my Easter basket, and it tasted good!"

But then I realized something.  On any other day, our daughter would ask for a treat and we'd okay it, typically waiting until after a meal to give it to her.  She doesn't have candy every day, but when she does, we have a limit for it, and she knows what it is.  My wife and I knew that rule was waived for Easter, but our daughter didn't.  That's likely why she chose to hide the snack.

I wouldn't go so far as to say her reticence hurt my feelings, but it did trigger some thoughts about how the nature of my relationship with my daughter could evolve.  What I'd like is a completely open forum:  Any problem you have, kid, Dad can handle, or at least give an opinion.

What also struck me was that it was a clear sign of what might be around the corner.  I flashed back to my own deceptions and lies when I was young.  They weren't excessive, but they were also not my finest moments.

Then I flashed forward, to what my daughter might keep from Mom and Dad:  a bad-for-her boyfriend, busting curfew, sneaking booze.  Suddenly, I was happy we lived on an upper floor in our building, so she couldn't use some of her dolls to make a fake kid under the covers, then slip out a window.

I ended up having a chat about honesty with her.  I told her that having Easter candy on Easter Day was totally fine.  I also told her that she could tell me anything.  She said, "Okay."  Then I offered her a few jellybeans.


Do you remember the first time your child deceived you?

Sparkle Me Not

Mopping up after some poop shot up and out the back end of my 17-month old's diaper?  Bring it.

Working for two hours straight to settle down my 4-year-old from an epic tantrum over a pair of striped socks?  I got it.

Trying to clean that stale milk stink out of a sippy cup straw, for fear of letting some robust bug enter our boy's body?  Can do.

Handling doo-doo and tears can certainly be taxing, but it's par for the course.  So what could possibly be worse than all those tasks?  Easy:  cleaning up glitter.

The stuff drives me insane.  The fact that I have a 4-year-old daughter is part of the problem.  Her Princess Phase started early and is still going strong.  It's filled with sparkly figurines, iridescent party clothes and pink ballet shoes -- all adorned with glitter galore.  Add to that the glitter artwork made with glitter ink and glitter glue that comes home with her from school, and you have a whole lot of the shiny substance.

I've read that the use of glitter goes back to prehistoric times.  It was reportedly used to decorate caves, and early humans are said to have put it on cosmetically.  Oh, how I wish it hadn't made the leap to modernity.  Or at least had stayed with the age of Glitter Rock.  Ah, the days of my early youth!

Glitter history has it that an American machinist invented the present-day version in the 1930s or '40s by repurposing scrap metal.  Nowadays, it's everywhere.

Glitter pieces get drizzled onto the most remote areas of our home.  I can spot light dancing off a tiny particle of it from quite a distance.  Those are of course the bits that I don't find stuck to my skin or clothes, which can make for an interesting day at work.

I should've prefaced this with a pseudo-OCD admission.  I have issues when it comes to clean living, and I'm not referring to booze or drugs.  I need order in my life, and I need things to be clean.  Not spotless, mind you -- just very, very clean.

When I was single, I considered my domestic skills one of my most attractive selling points;  I can accomplish a whole lot of clean-up in just a few precious stolen minutes. 

But glitter has become my white whale.  I've tried to institute a glitter ban in our household.  I don't completely deny my child of her love for all princessly things, but if you've ever handled the stuff, you know that a little bit is all it takes to visit untold long-term horror on your home.  I recently found a small silver piece from a princess dress my daughter wore at least six months ago stuck to a t-shirt that I've worn and laundered easily a dozen times since.

The tenacity of glitter is unreal.  I always find it unbelievable that despite passing through the USPS's highly mechanized and physical system of automated machinery and hand delivery, some cards containing the shimmering menace still reach our mailbox with glitter on the outside of the envelopes.  How is that possible?

My wife of course thinks I'm insane for attempting to recover and chuck each and every minuscule piece of glitter that gets loose from the decorated items that breach my security.  Check that:  She thinks I'm insane, but she gives me a free pass.  That's what spouses who rock do.  I'm a lucky man, because it's not possible for me to rewire this part of my being.  Besides, she gets a pretty darn clean household.

While I'm sure there are at least a few folks out there who are in my camp, I understand that many people love glitter.  It looks fun to them, and makes them feel happy.  I get it, I really do.  But I need it to stay out of my home, or at least to stay stuck in the '70s.


So what's the worst clean-up job you've had as a parent?