DADWAGON

Of all the things I like about my daughter’s kindergarten, part of a independent public K-8 school housed in a hulking old Manhattan school building, here’s something unexpected: I like the stairs. There are elevators in the five-floor building, but the AM rush is a shitshow, to put it mildly, of way too many parents [...]

Last Sunday night, Sasha was eating her dinner—noodles!—at the little coffee table in the living room, and I was sitting behind her, on the couch, in my underwear. (Yeah, I lounge around the house in my underwear. So?) All of a sudden, Sasha turned around and pointed at my crotch. “What’s that?” she asked. “What?” [...]

It was not much more than a week ago that I lamented Sasha’s slow toilet training, enumerating the many, many places she has managed to pee (e.g., on her bike seat, on a cafe chair) while marveling at the sole instance of her actually pissing in a toilet in front of me. Well, much has [...]

In her diaper. Through her diaper. Through the infinitesimal crack between her diaper and her thigh. In her bed. On the couch. In her undies. In her undies and her shorts. On a chair at the Van Leeuwen ice cream cafe. (Afterwards: “I didn’t pee on your face, Daddy!”) On her bike seat. On the [...]