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We’re still in the process of figuring out what will make a decent human being out of Baby Rangirl. One minute I’m threatening her with a timeout via standing on the potty until she does as she’s told; which seems to solidify her hate for me and future pooping issues. The next minute we’re high-fiving Baby Rangirl for coming up with clever lines. 

“Um, I know it’s rude to ask, but did you fart?” I asked my wife at the dinner table one night. 

“Dude, I was about to ask you that. Is it Baby Rangirl?”

I leaned in to smell the iPad-occupied kid who was finishing up her dinner. “Nope. She smells like laundry. Ugh I think it’s the cat?”

Cue in Baby Rangirl. “Mommy, what did daddy say?”

“Nothing Baby Rangirl. We smell something.”

Baby Rangirl takes in a whiff of air. “Daddy, you stink like poop.” Seconds later we found a pile of turd left by the cat on our floor. This cat can’t leave us soon enough. 

One time, we decided to listen in on one of Baby Rangirl’s conversations whilst she played with her toys. There was a mommy, a daddy, and a baby. Baby Rangirl would have the daddy say “stop doing that, you genius. That’s not smart. Genius”.

Mommy Ranman looked at me and we could tell I haven’t been using the word “genius” in the correct way at home. 

We’ll need to fine tune our parenting skills and get it right the second time around. Now, on to the pictures. 

 Playing at the arcades: 
Our first Yankee game together for Father’s Day…she didn’t last until the second inning: 
 Someone likes the candies from my barber: 
Happy 4th from our kid to you! Freedom has 3 states apparently.  

Keeping You On Track

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Our Baby Rangirl is on her way to leaving the nest. I almost want to get her well on her way with some tips:

  1. Boys are jackasses 
  2. Listen to mom and dad
  3. Men are douches
  4. Dating before the age of 29 is frowned upon
  5. Do all my chores

Well point #1 has fallen short. I need to bring you to this one boy in your daycare to assist me in dropping you off every morning. Else, I’m forced to beg you to stay in school because it’s good for you

Yea. “School is good for you” is a bunch of crap even when you’re 3 years old. 

Point #2? Fail. Grandma and grandpa has helped ensure that you are the spoiledest (is that a word?) in all the land. Well, we have another kid on the way. Guess we’ll chalk you up as a loss. Point #3 leads into why you adhere to #4. 

But then I got you back at #5: do my chores. 

I thought I’d post you watering the plants to help Mommy Ranman understand why I buy you all the toys made, ever. Today’s favorite character: Frozen. It’s been 1 week since you’re last Disney favorite: Tangled. That’s a change of +5 days Week / Week where you’ve maintained a love for a character, for those of you keeping stats at home. 

Well Baby Rangirl, enjoy your toys while I can still buy your love. 

Look at Olaf the snowman, trying to escape your death grip during slumber.  


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Daddy Ranman: Tell me why you don’t want to eat your food?

Baby Rangirl: Because you’re a Butthead!

Daddy Ranman: Can’t argue with that reasoning. 

Baby Rangirl: Row row row your boat gently down the butt!

And thus continues the ever-evolving conversations with my kid. Everything butt-related is a riot. And I can’t help but crack up each time…I’m such the enabler. 

And she’s such the clown. 

 …and still a troublemaker as she defied my choice in coatwear for the day, opting for the raincoat-on-a-sunny-day: 
 …and run up the stairs as Rapunzel using blankets as her long hair: 
I implore you dear reader- am I the real Butthead here?

Pick Up

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Well. It’s official. Baby Rangirl, you’re failing your father before you even hit 4 years of age. We give you a new room to make way for your baby bro:


 (Courtesy of a coworker who feels there’s still hope amongst the Ranmans)

And what do you do? 

You leave wads of toys on the floor like some 20 year old snob who won’t clean their IKEA-furnished apartment. I mean. You’re 3. You have a television. Cable. HBO. Access to Game of Thrones and House of Lies on demand. 

I even let you get tattooed by the locals. 

Yet you refuse to pick up your mess. 

And AJ the Cat is all like:



Side note. The cat isn’t doing well, currently at the vet for over 4 days with pancreatic issues. See what happens when you don’t pick up your crap?  

Ugh. Then you go and pick out a bear at Build-A-Bear. The perfect one. All by yourself. Batman and Yankees. And then I go and forgive you for being the douchehead that you are. You melt me. 


2 Much?

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It feels weird that there’s someone’s penis in me…

It’s a boy! Mommy Ranman currently carries your probably-already-annoying baby bro, Baby Rangirl. I’m sure as you read this, your eyes are rolled back into your head as we begin the retelling of a story you’ve already lived.

But I’m going to cite every fight. Every annoyance. Every time either of you piss me off so that when this blog is discovered, you and your bro will be reminded the trials and (errors) tribulations we’ve endured as parents. And mayhaps this will also serve as reason to put your mother and I in a nice retirement home which avoids the mortal enemies we’ve accumulated over the years from defending the actions of you two rugrats?

Yup, it’s a boy! He’s already playing with it already!

Great, this boy has no shame already in front of the doc and ladies. 

The other week we were hanging with your Irish side of the family (Happy St. Patrick’s Day!) in Connecticut while I got over some plague you passed onto me from daycare. How’d you help me recover from all the trips to the restroom during the night at the hotel?

By hogging the bed each and every time I got up. 

Oh, that’s memecat- are memes even a thing in the future Baby Rangirl? Well that’s our 8 year old A. J. the cat conveying my thoughts accurately at your inconsideration. 

I can’t even imagine what 2 kids in a hotel room would mean. You guys are sleeping with the janitor. 

The Strike System is Born

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The other day, I realized I love my kid. With proper form she delivered what I’m going to refer as “the phrase that pays”. I was talking to Mommy Ranman and Baby Rangirl interrupts me:

“Daddy, shut up.” 

Precise. Posture. Pain in the ass. The 3 P’s to success were all there. For only being 3 years of age this kid is being a douchehead at a 5th grade level. 

In addition, what does she do yesterday? She runs up to me. Puts her tiny butt on me. And says “daddy, I’m going to fart on you!” and delivers a little pop of wind on my leg. 

I have no idea where this kid learned any of this. People would assume from me, but I tell the kid to shut her face and have yet to fart in front of anyone in our house (awake, at least) because I’m a lady. 

But in 2 seconds I turned from proud-dad to get-outta-my-house dad. No, Baby Rangirl didn’t bring home any boys. She accidentally bounced a ball into a cup of pineapple juice which spilt on my iPhone. Even when I typed “spilt on my--” auto fill suggested “iphone“. It knew what would be the one reason I disown my child. 

Strike 1, Baby Rangirl. You have 1.5 left. 

Strike 0.5: Almost a strike- placing her toys in a “kissing” position. On purpose. No more Netflix programming around this kid. 

Oh I’ll Keep You In Check

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What the balls is this, Baby Rangirl?


You come home from Preschool of all places with not one- but TWO Valentines?? David and Carlton? Clariol?Clarkkent? Well whoever that second kid is- they both have sent home a vday death wish/hit on their head.

And don’t start that whole “Daddy, they’re just friends” crap I see on the TVs and interwebs. I’ll revert to scaring you silly with the toy robot you’re so deathly afraid of. Oh yeah – you know the one. It kept you from climbing up the stairs for over a year now, all because it shoots and fires lasers. It’ll keep you from hanging with David and Coral. Here’s a recap:

“Daddy what’s that?”

“Uh oh…”


“Ok I’m so gone!”


So yea. Lose the male friends. Fast.

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