Explaining Taxes to Kids

Today, “tax day”, has to be my absolute least favorite day of the year.

I’ve loathed taxes since the late 80’s when I was around 16 years old. That’s the time when I got my first minimum wage paycheck after working nearly two weeks straight one summer.
I still remember that mysterious sealed blank white envelope. I ran home, smelled it, tore the thing open in excitement, held the magical piece of paper in the air in the direction of the sun to see the beautiful watermark (“Official Document”) only to be completely traumatized at how much the government and something called “FICA” took out. The check was less than $17.

That was the first day I truly swore. Not for minutes, but for days. Nothing cheered me up, not even my newly acquired Depeche Mode 101 CD.

Then being the good kid that I was, I listened to my great-grandmother (she lived through the great depression) and opened a savings account getting a paltry .002% interest rate. Honestly I think I had a better chance earning more by planting pennies in the ground and praying for rain on a leap year.
Given the unfortunate circumstances, I still somehow happened to earn something like $5 that year. And then months later I got something called a 1099 telling me that I was subject to taxes on the $5 bucks that I earned. That’s the year I started lending money to kids on the playground and charging a 30% interest with a pre-payment penalty "off-the-books." I didn’t ask for that life, taxes made me do it.

Yes, my contempt for taxes started early.

Please don’t try to tell me why taxes are good because you’ll be wrong. I’ve heard just about every reason why taxes are a respectable thing, “how are we going to pay for the sun?” “Taxes! That’s how!”
Honestly, at this point. I really don’t care. Ask me that when I’m all pale and begging, “I need sun! I need sun!” Maybe I’ll care then, but right now if I were on Facebook for real, I would be no fan of the IRS.

If I ever do get the opportunity to start my own country (the one with a planned KFC franchise on it) the first thing I would order, besides a double-down, is not to tax everything in the world. I would be a fair dictator and just tax the things I’m not fond of, like, Kevin Costner movies and Justin Bieber.

Tonight, while writing a check to pay even more taxes my daughter asked me, “Daddy? Why are you crying?” I replied, “Because if I don’t pay even more taxes, these really bad people called ‘the IRS’ will send me to Guantanamo Bay.”

If Age Doesn’t Kill Me, This Will...

There’s just nothing that beats going into work and getting a surprise KFC lunch buffet birthday party by my co-workers.

And knowing the Kentucky Fried traditionalist that I am, none of this “grilled chicken” business was even on the table. Yes, these people know me well. Nothing but the Colonel's own invention's of extra-crispy, original, popcorn chicken (in little theater popcorn buckets), and a birthday candle planted in mash potatoes on top of a bucket of chicken - just the way they still celebrate birthdays in Kentucky and maybe central Ohio.
What more you say can a guy ask for?

How about the best birthday gift ever created:

KFC Double Down

2 original recipe fillets, swiss and pepper jack cheese, Colonel’s sauce , and (mouth-watering about now)…. Bacon!

I wouldn’t wait in line for an iPad, but I’m sure going to be waiting outside KFC Monday for this piece of heaven.
And then the rest of the year I'll be on a diet of just grapefruit, lettuce, and rocks just so I can eat another Double-Down next year.

Getting Rid of a Family Member...

We didn’t actually get rid of a real human family member.

Although now that I think about it, there are a few in my family that I wouldn’t mind getting rid of... but that’s a topic I’ll save for some other day.

This weekend I got rid of my wife’s, and daughter’s beloved cute little red and white top MINI Cooper. After a storm of expensive repairs the past 6 months, including replacing the entire engine 4 months ago (at my wife’s request to “save” the car) the transmission was on the verge of falling out and possibly exploding into a million pieces.
When they told me how much it would cost to repair I turned and told the wife in a harsh but loving voice, “(woman) we’re getting rid of that car tonight, even if it’s the last thing I do!”

Then I growled. I think.

If you had seen the reactions of my wife and daughter, you’d think I told them I was shooting the family dog on the lawn during a birthday party and then drinking its blood for sheer sport.

Trust me, I was tempted after all of the money we've poured into it.

On our first dealer visit my daughter had tears in her eyes. And then she discovered the little buttons and “secret” compartments in the new cars. Then she was over the little red car, ready to move on and start stashing toys, candy, and crayons into those magical compartments.

The wife wasn’t so easy. The MINI was her car. She dreamed about it. She ordered it online just before we got pregnant, was given a production number through the dealer, and tracked its 6-month build progress in Oxford, England, and then tracked its boat ride all the way to California. Yes, it was a strange family car for nearly 5 years (I still remember the looks that we got taking an infant car seat out of it) but it all worked out just fine. And now I was the bad guy because the pieces that make it go are made out of Lego’s and bubblegum.

When the car dealer appraiser was looking at the MINI making small chitchat he asked my daughter pleasantly, “are you sad about your cute little car going away?”
Then she replied “yeah, but it’s always breaking so my daddy wants to get rid of it.”

On the second visit I made my wife and daughter stay in the car.

Help! My Wife is Pregnant and Nesting, Again

I can’t help but to feel a little bad for my wife, or any woman pregnant, “with child.”

At 30 weeks she’s saying the strangest things, “how did this happen?” Can’t walk into a store without the belly bumping into things “did they shrink these aisles??” “Where did that jar/display/kid/truck come from?” And I feel bad having her walk anywhere since she has to lean backwards to move and sort of waddle. I want to attach a little wheel to the belly to help her get around.

I mentioned that once joking and she didn’t talk to me for 2 days. It’s been so long since our first daughter was born that I forgot pregnant women don’t like to joke around.
Unless, of course, you’re accidently shot in the head for saying such things - then it’s funnier than Sandra Bullock with a southern accent.

The best thing for any loving husband, like myself, to do is just smile and say things like “yes” to just about everything and don’t question the weird “nesting” home improvement requests like tree removals, garage storage racks, painting the entire house, planting an orange tree, change the brakes on the car, and other irrelevant things.

Yup, I’m just taking it all in trying to enjoy the baby kicks, a glowing stunning wife, the ultrasounds, an eager 4-year-old that can’t wait to be a big sister, and the anticipation of going through whole birthing experience one more time. There really is nothing in the world that even comes close to the birth of your child.

Besides, I can always joke about the weird things she (we) did later.

Weird questions? I’ve Got Answers

Some of the searches that end up here are getting stranger by the day.
Most of them are in the form of questions looking for help or expert advice. I find it odd that they end up here since the closest thing I have to a Ph.D is a DVD or BVD’s.

However, these people are looking for answers so I’m going to respond to them. Why? Because that’s just how I roll.

The Questions:
what is lionel richie doing this year for thanksgiving? – Let me ask. Spending it at Dollywood.
ideas for writing birthday invitations for a party at chuck e cheese – Start with “I’m so sorry but, this wasn’t my idea…”
why does my dad stay up late – To play Words with Friends on the iPhone. But not with Sci Fi Dad (because he cheats....!!)
why do we have butt cracks – Because they’re funny
do midgets have small poop – Let me check. Yes.
where can i get a monkey to perform at my daughters birthday party? -- In Thailand or Lancaster.
i drank my wife's breast milk yesterday – Hopefully because you ran out of regular milk and not because you like it and are just really weird.
my son doesn't have a date for prom? Put an ad on Craigslist
creative way to tell husband that you are expecting -- Don’t start it by saying “remember that business trip …”
when does a baby mullet grow? – At 5 months, start playing Michael Bolton songs. At 6 months start showing Macgyver reruns or visit Georgia.
wierdest thing about lionel ritchie -- If his mustache is ever removed, he loses all magical powers.
what is it called if you have an obsession with poop – Poopalicious.
my five year old who refuses to go to the potty! -- Take him/her back to the store for a refund.
i called poison control 4 times in one week what's going to happen to me – Protective services should be arriving at your door any minute.
why do little kids pick their noses – The same reason why old people do, because they're bored and have nothing to play with.

No, You STILL Can’t Have a Cat!

My daughter has been begging for a cat again. Apparently my excuses from last year (“Big Bird use to have a little brother, but cats ate him”, “Cats eat Fairies”…) have started to diminish in there effectiveness because she’s now prepared to risk the lives of both Big Bird and Fairies so she can have a cat.

That’s not good news for me, or Big Bird.

Somehow she just doesn’t understand that all cats secretly want to hurt and eventually kill people. Maybe it’s my fault for not speaking enough about the dangers and well-known fact that they’re all killing machines (click to view larger):

(Illustration credit to this guy)

So being a man of compromise, and a Dad who not only wants save his daughter from a carnivorous cat so she can live long enough to see her 5th birthday, I did what any other Dad would do.

I bought her an Ant Farm instead (The kind that glows with cool space-age gel! So cool…)


My wife wasn’t impressed because not only can’t you pet Ants, because they have no fur and aren't "cute", but these Ants sting when touched.

To which I replied “...it’s better to get stung than killed by a cat!”

FREE Last Minute Classroom Valentines That Provide a Service

While helping my daughter put together her classroom Valentines for school, I realized how unimportant and irrelevant the cards were: “Happy Valentines day”, “Bee My Valentine”, “It’s Valentines day!” They really don’t mean much and aren’t at all practical.

Why not give classroom Valentines that gives kids real useful advice; life skills that they can use today or when they get older.

I sure would have appreciated some good advice while in preschool.

So with that in mind, here are some useful Valentines Day cards I put together as a public service to all (click to print):

"The goal is to pay your credit card off each month - Happy Valentines Day!"
"Never attend anything that involves a timeshare or "business opportunity." - Happy Valentines Day!"
"Team Jacob or Team Edward? In 5 years it won't matter. - Happy Valentines Day!"
"If Dad does like him, he must be wrong for you.- Happy Valentines Day!"

"Don’t visit Tijuana.- Happy Valentines Day!"
"Love is a battlefield.- Happy Valentines Day!"
"Always wash your hands after using the bathroom or visiting any government building.- Happy Valentines Day!"
"You should never drop it like it's hot.- Happy Valentines Day!"

You Can’t Have a Boyfriend in Preschool

I knew something was strange when I picked up my daughter from school and as she was giggling hysterically. When I smiled and asked what was so funny - thinking I would get an answer like some silly picture she drew or maybe some game she had been playing - I didn’t expect to hear this:

Daughter: “Guess who I’m thinking of?”

Who? Ariel? Mommy? Daddy? …Lionel Richie?

Daughter: “MARCUS” (followed by her giggles and those of 3 friends)

“Marcus?” And they were all looking at the new boy in the corner of the room playing with Thomas trains COMPLETELY unaware of the groupies not far away.

Daughter: “He can BREAKDANCE!”

Friend #1: “Yeah! And we all like him like the way Gabrielle likes Troy!” (group giggles)

Whatchu-talkin’bout?!

Does anybody know of a cave I can live in with my family for about 18 years or so? Preferably one with no TV and no other preschoolers with parents that allowed them to watch High School Musical, iCarly, Hannah Montana, The Hills and maybe Twilight.

I just can't get over how kids this young watch these shows. They're watching things they don't understand and shouldn't be exposed to for at least another 25-30 years.

On the drive home my daughter and I had a long conversation about boys and how they should be considered yucky at her age, and about giving me a heart-attack before I turn 40; About having friends, staying a kid, and about how she isn’t allowed to date until she’s married.
You know, typical conversation material one usually has with a 4-year old.

I think she understood. But to be sure, I made her a coloring page just to reiterate my message:

"You can't date until you're married" coloring page

Once she's colored it, I'm hanging it on her cubby at school just as a reminder.

How To Answer The Question “Where Do Babies Come From?

Apparently my explanation to my 4-year old daughter a few weeks ago didn’t resonate completely with her:

“My seed, otherwise know as ‘sperma’ or haploid with 23 chromosomes, and mommy’s egg, also with 23 chromosomes met in the mommy’s womb and formed a diploid cell and after it fertilized a zygote was formed, which is basically a baby, and now you’ll be a big sister in a few months. Now go clean your room, brush your teeth, be nice to mommy, and don’t forget to wash your hands after using the bathroom. I love you.”

Today my daughter told my wife how her baby brother got into her belly:

“You ate a baby seed and now you need to eat healthy food like pizza and blueberries to feed it.”

And then she went onto explain –

“Joe’s mommy’s both have veh-hina’s and was born from both of them at Target.”

And then continued with—

“Can we go see the Chipmunks Squeakquel again?”

To which I jumped in and answered –

“No!!”
One time was more than enough. I still can’t believe how bad that movie was…

Have your kids ever asked you the “Where do babies come from” question? If so, how did you answer?

2010 Will Be Better!

December is finally over.

In 4 short weeks we’ve been through my wife’s graduation, a week at Disney World, a long in-law visit, our car (2005 MINI cooper) engine dying out of nowhere, 2 more family members losing their homes, and then sudden passing of one of my oldest and closest friends’ grandmother.

It’s been a very tough month.

Thankfully 2009 ended on something to be cheerful about, we had our first ultrasound last week and we’re having a BOY! Everything seems to be there, in working order and he’s growing just fine and is on target for spring. We couldn’t be more thrilled to have a girl and a boy. Although it would have been a little nice to have a boy first when we were younger to catch up to him, but hey I’m not complaining.
Ultrasound visits are always surreal. There’s just no way to even explain that ecstatic feeling of seeing your baby for the first time - even though he’s in black and white and looks like on some 1950’s submarine radar screen – just getting that glimpse is amazing. And then they switch to that 4D mode and then you’d swear that you’re living in the future (like in 2001), seeing things so clearly that we could count his fingers and toes.

On the way home with our daughter in the back talking about all of things she’s going to share with her baby brother and how nice she’s going to be to him forever (yes, I should have recorded it) the wife and I talked about how it’s been nearly 5 years since we went through all of this new baby stuff and how much we’ve forgotten in that short amount of time. Just the thought of diapers, night feedings, taking the stroller everywhere, getting kicked in the groin by the Baby Bjorn rider, diaper bag being dragged all over the place, and my ultimate fear: potty training – that alone just scares me all over again.

But then again this time around I have real world experience with child #1. I have my parenting skills down unlike before where everything was by trial and error. Lots of errors but trying my best and I think she's turning out just fine.

And unlike child #1, this will work on #2…

"Every time you poop in your pants, Elmo cries.
Don't make Elmo Cry!"