I am doling out advice.

Yes, the dad who thinks that this...

this...

this...

this... 

and this...

are perfectly normal activities for a kindergartner.

The only thing that makes this right? I'm doing this with none other than Mr Lady--the mom who admittedly does things the wrong way, but somehow always comes out the other side with kids whom anyone would be proud to call their own. Well, I guess I've got one of those too.

So I take it back. We are more than qualified for this little venture that we just launched.  It's called Stark Raving Dads. In Mr Lady's words, Stark Raving Dads is a "Dear Abby for guys." But twice the fun. For each question you submit, you'll hear from both of us. Aside from the whiskey thing, we're coming from opposite ends of the spectrum. Sure, it's like betting evens and odds on the roulette table, but hey, you don't lose any money and you get free booze.

So dads, come on by and ask us your burning parenting questions (anything but "can you watch this kid for me?"). We don't promise results. But we can assure you that it'll be a lot more interesting than what BabyCenter has to say.

 Scribble this on a Post-It right now:

Tuesday, May 13 at 1:00pm Eastern
On Soapbox Radio (well, just pretend you can hyperlink on a Post-It).
Call-in number: (347) 326-9613

A phone call during the show would make my day. It would make me feel totally rockstar. 

While Fury hasn't yet mastered the art of the Mother's Day gift hint, he does know his way around Legos. Better than I know my way around how to get a proper Mother’s Day gift, that’s for sure. Lucky for me, Joeprah was there to save the day. He advised me--Ok, so I straight up copied his gift (with his permission and blessing of course).

I know this post on Mother’s Day ideas is last minute, but I know kids and I know guys. If I posted this any earlier, it would have been forgotten by now. By timing it this way, someone may actually use some of these ideas. Desperation spawns action.

So go on, click. I’m even giving away stuff.

Jaden: "I think Kevin is gonna marry Gwen."
Fury: "Yeah, he really  likes her a lot."
Jaden: "He's always nice to her."
Fury: "Kevin has such a cramp on her!"

That would totally explain those butterflies.

Walking through the mall, kid on shoulders, trying to catch the 4:05 showing of Iron Man...

"Iron Man, Iron Man,
Does whatever an iron can,
Press a shirt, just like that,
No more wrinkles, now it's flat,
Look out, here comes the Iron Man!"

“Dad, I’m not letting you read my book tonight. Mom is!”
Pfft. All the less work for me, kid.

“And you know what? I’m not gonna let you film me for your W8 Loss Wednesday videos anymore!”
Well… maybe my weight loss journey is in and of itself interesting. At least I still have the dogs.

“And I’m not opening any more beers for you!”
Dammit! Now that’s hitting below the belt!

While you're there, make sure to give him props and of course subscribe to his feed and/or bookmark him. He features a different dad every saturday. AND, he's doing something that I wish I had thought of: he's getting the scoop direct from my favorite mom bloggers about issues that men care about, but were too scared to ask. He showed me a preview. It is GOOD. And he gets to email them without getting in trouble. I told you he was wikid smaaaat!

It was because you needed me. I was no longer inconsequential. No longer a reckless Ronin. I mattered.

True, you were but a peapod in suspended in ... stuff. But soon you would grow fingers that would need someone to stick a Scooby Doo band-aid on (even though I can't see this "cut" that you're screaming about).  You would grow legs that were "too tired" to walk around Disneyland on (meaning my neck and shoulders will continue to keep chiropractors in business for years to come). You would develop a biting sense of humor that needed a comic foil (and would spawn a blog of epic proportions... ahem).

You sprung this fatherhood thing on me with no advanced warning. I wasn't even done playing Summer Fling Guy with your mama. Talk about now, now, now, now, Dad!

And just when I've begun to acclimate myself to the fact that I have a baby, you go and do what? You turn into a 6-year-old kid! Just yesterday, I was scratching my head over what to do with this:

But back then, all I knew about survival was "keep your hands up," so I figured you were doing alright.

Once we passed the "seven day guarantee" offered by most pet shops, mom and I were relieved that we were at least following the instructions properly. Then we started to have fun with it. Do you remember hearing me sing "Rocket Man" while cracking up and pointing at you? Here's why:

When you weren't strapped to imaginary jetpacks, you were my little lion cub. In fact, I wanted to go to the bar where I met your mama and hoist you up Lion King style for all to see.  Instead, I got my Mufasa on by taking naps on the plains with you.

Of course mom had her fun with you too. Her favorite things were your chubby cheeks and tiny feet. And we have so many pictures to prove it.

Oh, I also have to thank you for indulging all my whims, as proven here:

... and here.

I know, you couldn't even stand up on your own yet and there I was getting you ready for your ring debut. But come on, let's be fair. You put us through a lot too--even when you couldn't "walk"--like that time I totally busted you messing with my office equipment!

And then one day you actually learned to walk! As I caught it on film I thought "wow, a self-propelled being!" Despite my comparing you to a guided missile, it was a pretty moving moment.

Now that you could walk, you were a certified bad ass. And training got underway in earnest. First, you had to get that grimace down:

Then, of course, you had to dress the part:

But underneath it all, you remained that cute kid that no one could get enough of.

Considering you had such big shoes to fill, you did a kick ass job!

... and along the way, you gave me a pretty big job as well: Chief Lego Engineer.

Lucky for me, you also began picking up other hobbies. Like bike riding. Which to this day has been my most exhilarating moment with you yet. This also happened to be the day it dawned on me that you were no longer "the baby."

I mean, would a baby have the balls to do this?

You are becoming a true warrior, my son. And I am damn proud of you!

But can you do me one favor? You may be a full fledged boy, and at times (like Sunday at Hooters) even one of "d Boys,"...

... but now can you slow down?

HAPPY 6th BIRTHDAY, FURY! 

- Love, Dad