KatyBeth

On the way to school this morning: AD: "Okay, so next spelling word: range." KatyBeth: "R-A-N-G-E." AD: "Very good. Can you use it in a sentence?" KatyBeth: "Ready on the left, ready on the right, ready on the firing line! The range is hot, commence firing!" Is it any wonder why I love the kid?

Nine years ago on this day, on a night filled with fear and uncertainty, God saw fit to bless me with a perfectly imperfect little girl who would show me what not what kind of father I was, but what father I could be. I am forever grateful.

Ferris Wheels and kilts are a bad combination, especially for the folks standing directly in front of the Ferris Wheel. Do not get on the Tilt A Whirl with your daughter after eating a corndog and fried shrimp on a stick. Do not get on the Tilt A Whirl while wearing a kilt. In fact, just say no to the ...

"There's a creepy guy at the park just watching the kids and taking pictures… and he's wearing a skirt!" Of course, it helps to have your own kid at the park as an alibi, in case such a call is ever made, and Kilted to Kick Cancer is the perfect excuse for such unusual attire.   Please, donate to Prostate ...

KatyBeth's mother and I share joint custody. Basically, my kid stays with me every day I have off, and with her mother on the days I work. Sometimes there's some overlap, but The Ex and I are adults about it, and swap days pretty freely when necessary. While I never counted on being present for only half of my daughter's ...

I had to explain to her that it's hard to show dramatic academic improvement when your baseline is general ass-kicking excellence.

… unless Ariel makes a radical evasive maneuver without warning King Triton first, and throws him off the back of the jet ski at 45 mph. I'm gonna have to teach my mermaid to use the throttle a little more judiciously.

I suppose there are far worse things than having a daughter for whom an A minus is not good enough, but the lip trembling, quavering voice, on-the-edge-of-tears thing every week is ripping me up, and I'd like to spare my daughter the angst.

KatyBeth asked Santa for an iPod for Christmas, so she can get a head start on being a sullen, isolated teenager listen to her favorite music. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been gently pumping her for information, presuming that Santa did grant her wish, what sort of music would she like on her iPod? Because, you know, I might ...

I’ve always considered myself somewhat of a skeptic. Whenever I hear of a new medical treatment, my first considered action is to review the research, both pro and con. I’m a proponent of evidence-based medicine, and I take my fair share of criticism because I’ll gleefully slaughter a few EMS sacred cows that are poorly supported by current research (see: ...

“Daddy, I don’t get that song. It doesn’t make any sense. Why does he call it a ‘Highway 20 Ride?’ You drive on a highway, not ride.” “You’re being too literal, KatyBeth,” I tell her. “He’s singing about the trip itself, not the act.” “I still don’t understand it,” she says in frustration. “Songs should make sense.” I think for ...

How do you spell f-U-N? Plastic Easter eggs packed with binary explosives, that's how.