Browsing All posts tagged under »Parenting«

Found my old diary and it turns out I was lame then, too

November 15, 2013

466

Hi there! I haven’t pulled out an old post in a while. This one goes way back–even before I started scratching out cartoons. It was originally posted on June 28, 2011. I had been digging around a box of old stuff and came across my diary.  Have a read and just know that nothing has […]

An important message from the makers of I’ve Become My Parents

November 11, 2013

10

Well hello valued IBMP readers. The fine folks in IBMP’s Quality Assurance Division have been working tirelessly as part of our continuous effort to improve your reading experience. Unfortunately, they all suck and will be fired just before the holidays when it has the greatest impact. So in the absence of a better reading experience, the […]

How to get what you want. Or not.

November 3, 2013

24

Son, your amazing ability to want everything you see is equaled only by your tireless commitment to not expending any energy to get it. Go figure. I get it: you want a Bugatti. It looks cool and it goes super fast. Well, actually, it has the potential to go fast–about 5 times faster than you’ll […]

Don’t blame me; puberty wasn’t my idea

October 9, 2013

41

When I was in 7th-grade, it seemed like there were only two kinds of kids: those that were miserable, and those that made them that way. Guess which one I was. Thirty-five years later, I get to re-live 7th-grade again through your eyes, son, and I realize I was wrong: you’re all miserable.  And why […]

I think I’m in love

September 10, 2013

36

Hey, son, I think I’m in love with your friend. No, not like that. Well, kind of like that. Granted, she’s 12 and I’m just a wee bit older, but it’s not that kind of love so don’t give me that look you gave Uncle Dave when he said he wanted to be a Mall […]

Beware the vengeful squirrel

July 29, 2013

29

I get it: you’re scared to sleep in that room. First of all, son, they aren’t dead pet bunnies; they’re dead pet bunnies’ ashes. And the boxes are totally sealed. How evil could the ghosts of dead bunnies be, anyway? What’re they going to do, wiggle their little ghost-noses at you until you piss yourself with fear? […]

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