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Listen Baby Rangirl. I want to consider you perfect. You’re the cutest thing on earth at five years old with your new glasses. This, after my fears of you being tortured by the kids at school- but I forgot that these little turds are still fine-tuning their insults. 

Also of note is the conversations you can keep. Thanks to pre-school, Spongebob, and other local experiences- you dazzle us with some new phrases everyday. It makes your attempts at the word “popsicle” seem less like a speech issue when you drop words like “chivalry” in proper context. 

But then you go ahead and do things like rip ass when I pick you up for a hug and crack yourself up. A steady rifle-sounding fart to my arm. Granted, I can be partially blamed for your interest in fart humor. I can’t help but laugh at the occasional blast. 

But there’s always a double standard as you’ll learn in society and the House of Ranman: we laugh at Mommy Ranman’s expense, not mine. Hopefully when you’re reading this we’ve come back from this betrayal. 

And if we’re still at war, I’ll leave you hanging when you need help. Like your brother who wouldn’t listen to me…and got stuck hanging over the tub:

And I won’t let you use MY mancave for your playground:

Things I do for you until that rip. 


Cry. It. Out. 

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Look little Ranboy. Just because you recently received my support for favorite kid after Butthole Rangirl declared she likes Mommy Ranman more, it doesn’t mean you get a free pass at life. We’ve been way too tolerant of bringing you to our bed when you wake up- and that nonsense must stop. 

You just have way too many limbs and use brute force in your sleep. That way-too- big-head of yours becomes an extra weapon in your sleep warfare and I think it gave me a concussion one time. Summer- long plans prevented us from trying to sleep train, which requires at least three straight nights. 

And I’ve complained ever since Baby Rangirl what horsepoop it is that we have to teach kids how to do something as natural (and oh so wonderful) as how to sleep. 

Well you little turd, it’s 3AM and you’re finally asleep after waking up at 2AM. Since Mommy Ranman and I are driven by annoyance, it was easy to hear you yell at the top of your lungs for attention. Just go to sleep dude, you’ll find no solace in our bed till you learn what nightmares are. 

9/19/16- When Our Friendship Takes A Turn

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By howdy does it ever, Baby Rangirl. I ain’t gonna remember much by the end of the day, but today I’m going to recall this as when you declared war: “I like mommy more better than you!”

Now this may be the pivotal strain on our young relationship every father/daughter combo must endure- I just thought I had some more time, yah know? Early 90’s sitcom has taught me that I’d regret having a daughter come 13 years of age. But 4? 

Fine. Go love your mammy more than me. Today marks the day I pull back on the Toys for Baby Rangirl program, and reinvest in the underfunded Your Brother is Cuter Anyways foundation. You friggin poopie face mcpoop face. 

Here’s a time when you 2 actually got along and were both in my favor….

…monster feet and all:

But I guess this is now top dog:

Where Am I?

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Is that Lil Ranboy growing his 2 front teeth??

Ugh. No. It’s Baby Rangirl finding some rat thing in Pokemon Go. What year is this? This little mofo calls me “lame” all the time, and gets excited over this game?

At least the little man isn’t into this…wait. Where are you buddy? Ah! Gotta find you the same way we’re searching for Pokemons. 

Well at least we’re still in the year…wait! Did I just catch someone on my train with a DISCMAN??? 

Ok. It’s 1997 and the Yankees are still the best team ever. 
***8:07PM update: Pokemon has backfired. Baby Rangirl is scared of Pokemons. She will be in our bed all night. F-me, right?

I’m. So. Scared. Of her bothering us come 2AM. 


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In these trying times of parenting, we’re always looking for leverage in the Ranman household. It’s solely for you at the moment, Baby Rangirl, seeing as your baby bro is easily sedated by pacifiers, bottles, and anything else in boob-form. 

If anything of interest pops up in your life, it becomes a new weapon to bribe you with. Toys, candies…and dresses. Holy crap are you all about the dresses. 

When you threaten to come into our bed at night due to nightmares, we go fight back with “fine, then no dress to school tomorrow!” Slap on some jeans and you are in a funk for the rest of the day, my dear daughter. 

We can’t even get you to come down the steps without promising a night gown later at night to make up for the lack of a dress-of-the-day fanfare. 

…now what can we use against your baby brother to get him to start crawling…

Yea, the sucker gives up quickly despite all sorts of foods and iPhones put in front of him as motivation. That’s just a Daddy Ranman trait: you just don’t really move from one spot until your favorite ice cream sundae is the end goal. 

Stats so far

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Whilst Baby Rangirl continues to amaze at the random crap she retains, Baby Ranboy continues to fill in the memories of what it’s like to get used to a new baby:

Mommy Ranman IM’d me-
“We have:

11.8 lbs

23.5 inches

75th percentile for height;

90th for weight

60th for head”

 Daddy Ranman: any of that too much according to the doctor? 

Mommy Ranman: Nope, the doc said Baby Ranboy is perfect

Daddy Ranman: and that’s a good weight, too?

Mommy Ranman: She said it’s fine. Keep feeding him on demand

Daddy Ranman: cool. and what of his…member? is that in the 90th percentile?

I didn’t hear from the Mrs. again on that IM thread. Let’s hope you’re equipped to handle the world, little dude. Gotham needs you. 

A Daddy’s Rant Is Never Done

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Am I the only dad whose foot always finds the 1 toy or end of the kid furniture each time? From Baby Rangirl’s stray Lego to Baby Ranboy’s bassinet cramping my bedroom- each item seems to increase in pointy texture and discoverability once my toe comes within striking distance. 

I see it now – Baby Ranboy’s challenge. “Mess with me and I’ll make your life rough…when I figure I’ve been messed with.” 

(Note Baby Rangirl’s toy on the floor in the background waiting for my right foot to get home.) 

On top of that, I’m changing my own clothes as often as this little guy- it seems like I get the same amount of spit on me as he does on himself. Who’s the baby in this relationship?

Gangster by nature. 


What else is working against you, Daddy Ranman
 you ask? Timing. I have no problem with a baby crying every 3 hours for a bottle and diaper change. 

He barely sleeps for long stretches. 

The second kid is waking up every 2 hours herself.

If I were to do the math we’re getting…35 minutes of sleep? 2 seconds? Okay I’m the one Indian that sucks at math but I do know sleep escapes us by a lot of hours. 

And why does he get to sleep on his own time?

2 kids aren’t so bad, we expected this of course. But Baby Rangirl- you know what you do. You be playing on this “first child syndrome” where you steal each parent’s chunk of time in order to get ice cream. 

You kids will kill me sooner than my next  drink. 

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