Don’t Kiss, Don’t Tell
Is there any evidence that prudishness is genetic?
The Boys Scouts of America flagrantly recruits hairless, prepubescent males into their uniform-wearing, male-bonding, rubbing-two-sticks-together-in-the-woods lifestyle.
My then-partner/now-husband and I, having tried over and over and harder and harder to conceive an offspring in the traditional manner (it was simply grueling, I tell you), finally gave up the ghost and decided to adopt somebody via the good graces of the New Jersey State Foster System.
I am the manager of my younger son’s soccer team. (Quit that sniggering, you.) I am the manager and not the coach because, well, it’s like this. The role of coach entails instructing the kids in strategy and game play, making on-the-field calls, demonstrating and supervising drills and practice sessions, […]
For our trans-inter-ultra-mega-racial adoptive family, it is an even greater joy to mold our children into bleeding heart, leftist, liberal, politically correct, Obama-lovin’ Americans.
It was a little joke that a dad was so inessential to his child’s day-to-day life that when the kid was in his care, it was as though he was “babysitting.”
Being a gay family, I had hoped that somehow we could escape the whole Brother-on-Brother violence thing.
Why in hell can’t boys hit the center of the toilet?
Times have changed, progress has marched on, barriers have broken down, minds have expanded, and the Jersey shore is still almost exactly the same.
You would think that a family consisting of two sons surrounded by All Dads, All the Time would be able to navigate the craggy terrain of puberty with a bit more aplomb.
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