The weather in New York has been warm and gorgeous of late, and that means the beginning of a particularly NYC-ish phenomenon: screaming about the overreach of entitled parents in Brooklyn! I’m just kidding—that’s a year-round phenomenon. But the latest case hits home with me in a surprising way. Here it is, courtesy of the …
Continue reading “I Scream (and Scream and Scream) About Ice Cream”
“What’s your signature dish?” my friend Michael asked me yesterday evening. It was close to 7 p.m., and our kids, Sasha and Katerina, were playing together in Sasha’s room. These post-preschool playdates take place once every couple of weeks, when Sasha asks if Katerina can come over, or vice-versa. It’s cute to watch them play …
Rome is a city of piazzas and cobblestones, hills and catacombs, high heels and pick-up soccer games—that is, a walking city. Which is to say, if you’re there with a 3-year-old, you’re fucked. Well, that’s maybe putting it a bit strongly. Sasha has held up pretty well here, considering her jetlag and our erratic use …
Continue reading “Our Roman Holiday, Chapter II: Sono Stanco”
Astute DadWagon observers (there must be two or three of you by now) will have noticed that things have changed slightly around the site, both in recent weeks (we’ve been tweaking our design in anticipation of a bigger tweak) and over the now nearly two years of our existence. God, two years! Can you believe …
Continue reading “Oh, Crap, We’re Old; Or, DadWagon Kids Growing Up!”
