I’m explaining to my 8th-grade kid that his mom is pretty attractive for a mom, but he’s not seeing it. I list off several of his friends’ unattractive moms by way of example, and then ask him, “Which of your friends has a better-looking mom than Mom?” “Lopez,” he says, naming one of the kids on his hockey team. OK, I’d forgotten about her . . . Read more →
EppsNet Archive: Parents
The Finer Things in Life
One thing you can’t help noticing in spending a day at LACMA, what with the proximity to West Hollywood and all, is that gay guys really like art. I mentioned that to my son and his response was “Case in point: you,” which wasn’t very nice. He’s not much of an art lover . . . I admit that I occasionally drag him along to an art museum, because I feel like he should know at least a little bit about it whether he likes it or not. On our way back to Orange County — in keeping with my mission of introducing the boy to the finer things in life — we stopped off at the original Tommy’s stand at Beverly and Rampart, not only an L.A. landmark, but a favorite of USC students for decades, where you can still get — as the boy did — a double… Read more →
Coconut Pancakes
The Epps family was in Thai Town in Hollywood late Friday night. Most establishments were already closed . . . one exception was a Thai sweet shop called Bhan Kanom Thai, across the street from the famous Sanamluang Cafe. There were three generations of Thai women in the shop: 1) A very cute, very poised 9-year-old girl, who probably could have run the place herself; her mom; and Grandma, who was cooking up some coconut pastries about the size, shape and consistency of silver dollar pancakes. My wife walked out with about 25 dollars worth of the coconut pastries and other goodies. When we got back on the 101 South, our son announced he was hungry. “Try those coconut pancakes,” I said. “Best thing I ever tasted. I’m in heaven.” “I don’t like coconut,” he said. “How can you not like coconut?” my wife asked in alarm. “It’s a main… Read more →
Another Reason I Never Put My Kid in Day Care
A day care worker in Tulsa, Okla., was looking after eight children ages 7 and younger. One of the kids, a 2-year-old boy, would not be quiet for nap time, so she bound his hands and covered his mouth with masking tape. That silenced him — permanently. The boy died after several days on life support. I never did trust people enough to have them raise my kid. Never did. Now if you were to respond that the average day care worker is no less capable than the average American mom of raising a child without killing it, I’d say — you’re probably right! I’m just talking about my kid . . . Read more →
How Much I Care
We’re having dinner at Chili’s, and long before the food arrives, my kid has already informed me that I should have ordered meat instead of a salad, and that he can’t believe how quickly I ordered a refill on my soda. “Are you going to micromanage the whole meal for me?” I ask. “I can’t see how it makes any difference to you what I order or how fast I drink my soda, but somehow it does.” “It shows how much I care,” he says. Read more →
It Can’t Hurt That Much
I was telling my son about a woman in Arkansas who’s about to give birth to her 17th child. Her oldest is 19. “Doesn’t that hurt?” the boy asked. “I wouldn’t know,” I said, “but it can’t hurt that much if you’re willing to do it 17 times. It can’t hurt as much as, say, a kick in the groin, because after I took one kick in the groin, I wouldn’t sign up to take 16 more.” “The pain goes away, you know.” “Are you suggesting that I would be willing to take 17 kicks in the groin?” “Over a 19-year period, yeah.” “Agree to disagree.” Read more →
Fortune Cookies
Last weekend, we had dinner at a Chinese place with some of my in-laws. As usual, my son and I were left at one end of the table to entertain ourselves while the rest of the group chatted with each other in Thai. Near the end of the meal, the boy started reading through the fortune cookies and ad libbing the messages: “‘If you’re reading this, you’re most likely Asian, which means your mom will yell at you a lot.’ ‘This fortune cookie is stale. You’re not going to like it.’ ‘You will fulminate in 10 seconds.’” “Fulminate?!” I said. “It was one of my vocabulary words.” Read more →
Vox Clamantis in Deserto
As we’re driving home from a hockey tournament, my son and I see a car with a license plate frame that reads DARTMOUTH VOX CLAMANTIS IN DESERTO “Is that the kind of thing they teach you at Dartmouth?” he asks. “Apparently,” I say. “Doesn’t seem very useful.” “No, it doesn’t,” I have to admit. Read more →
Mrs. Bryant Throws the Gyroball
My son’s having some trouble with 8th grade Algebra. When I work with him on it, I can see that he knows the material and he can do the calculations . . . his biggest problem is a fatalistic, let’s-get-it-over-with, I’m-no-good-at-math attitude, which leads to careless errors, and frustration if his first approach to a problem doesn’t work. I encourage him to take a more positive attitude, to go into the next test saying positive things to himself, like “I know this material” and “I can handle these questions.” “But I don’t know it,” he says. “Mrs. Bryant [his math teacher] throws the gyroball every pitch! And sometimes she hits me with it!” What we have here is a classic self-fulfilling prophecy . . . Read more →
Not the Way Ward Cleaver Would Have Handled It
Ireland Baldwin is very lucky to have a dad like Alec Baldwin who can “straighten her ass out on issues” on a regular basis. He can even fly to wherever she is to straighten her out in person! It’s what he does! The rest of us only have Alec Baldwin to straighten us out on issues on an irregular, ad hoc basis. [UPDATE: A family law judge was so alarmed after hearing Baldwin’s phone message that she has barred him from having any contact with his child pending a May 4 hearing, so he will be limited to long-distance ass-straightening, er, parenting, at least temporarily.] Parents get what they deserve from their kids. It’s not easy to snuff out the natural affection that a child has for a parent, but if you perservere, you can do it! UPDATE: Alec Baldwin Calls Dora the Explorer Read more →
Always Thank Your Dad
My boy is researching a paper on Darwin’s theory of evolution. “How’s the research going?” I ask. “I discovered an error and had to start over,” he says. “You discovered an error in your paper or you discovered an error in Darwin’s theory?” “Well, Internet Explorer discovered an error and had to close.” “Because if you discovered an error in Darwin’s theory, there’s probably a Nobel Prize in it for you. Be sure to mention me in your acceptance speech.” “Shut up.” “[Imitating his voice] ‘I’d like to thank my dad, who always encouraged me to do my best.’” “Shut up.” Read more →
It Works!
Xkcd will sell you a T-shirt with this slogan on it. My son loves it. He thinks his 8th grade science teacher should get one. “That’s a great idea,” I say, “if he wants to get fired.” “He could just cross out BIZNATCHES and write KIDS instead,” he suggests. Read more →
Life Imitates Art
He said he heard about a couple living in the USA He said they traded in their baby for a Chevrolet — Elvis Costello, “Less Than Zero” PUEBLO — Three people were arrested on charges of swapping a 5-month-old boy for a downpayment on a used Dodge Intrepid and cash, police said Tuesday. — Vail Daily Read more →
I Think He Means Smart-Alecky in a Good Way
My son’s tennis teacher asks me where the boy gets his “smart-alecky” personality — from me or my wife? “Well,” I say, “if by ‘smart-alecky’ you mean ‘funny,’ he gets it from me. If you mean ‘argues for the sake of arguing,’ he gets that from his mom.” Read more →
Going to the Temple
My wife makes an occasional visit to one of the local Buddhist temples, and sometimes she “encourages” the rest of the family to join her. “Thanks for coming along,” she says on the drive over. “You made us come,” our son says from the back seat. Then after a pause, “But you’re welcome.” Read more →
Adventures in Driving
We’ve just had another of the near-death experiences so common when my wife gets behind the wheel of a car. “Driving with you is a real adventure, honey,” I say. “Not in a good way,” our son adds. She wears multiple combinations of glasses and contact lenses, but her standard explanation — “I can’t see!” — is not as reassuring as she seems to think it is. Read more →
What Hockey Players Are Supposed to Smell Like
My wife is commenting on the smell of our son’s hockey bag. “You need to air that out sometimes,” she tells him. “Hockey players aren’t supposed to smell like perfume,” he explains. “What are they supposed to smell like?” I ask him. “Sweat and toil,” he says. “Broken bones. And dried blood.” Read more →
Miscommunication
My son’s upstairs playing PawnGame as my wife yells up to him, “Didn’t I tell you 15 minutes ago to take a shower?” “Yes,” he yells back. “Didn’t you say ‘OK’?” “No, I said ‘hold on.’” “Oh . . . must be something wrong with my ears then.” Read more →
Mallet Men
My son’s junior high school has two bands, Symphonic Band and Concert Band. You could think of them as the varsity and the JV. Membership in the Symphonic Band is by audition only. Because the boy changed instruments from saxophone to percussion last summer, after the Symphonic Band auditions, he has to play in the Concert Band this year. I don’t think he’s happy about it, but he’s taking lessons and practicing and trying to get better. This week, we had All-City Honor Band tryouts. All five percussionists from the Symphonic Band tried out, and four of them made it. My son also tried out and made it — as first chair. He’s the best junior high percussionist in Irvine. Don’t give up on your dreams, kids! I too played percussion in junior high and high school, where I was known far and wide as the Fast-Hand Mallet Man. So… Read more →
What Would Andrew Jackson Say?
My son and I are sitting around the house when the phone rings. He looks at the caller ID, which says something about Recruiting. “It’s the U.S. Army,” he says. We don’t pick it up, and a female voice comes on to leave a message, which has nothing to do with the army. “A woman?!” he shouts. “What would Andrew Jackson say about that?” “Andrew Jackson?” “That’s right, soldier!” Read more →