Triple The Dad

My last few posts have been pretty down beat. There is the one about how I yell at my kids too much ; and don’t forget the one where I compare my kids to Darth Vader . So its been a rough couple of weeks. But each of these posts has had a single uniting theme underpinning it: I think every single time I butt heads with my kids comes down to my own flaws. There. I said it. When my kids are playing right up to and past their bedtime and I can’t wrangle them into bed; when they won’t get their shoes on to leave the house to buy THEIR snack ; when they want more snack than common decency dictates; when they want more TV time or tablet time; the times when they ask the most inane questions, or when they won’t get their own underwear despite standing right next to the drawer. Well, OK, maybe that last one isn’t on me. But the rest? If it isn’t time travel , I think they are all on me. When they play past bedtime its mostly a failure to leave enough time. Indeed, I’ve ...