Typhoid Da-da (or, "Advice for New Parents")

Germs! They're what's for dinner.

Da-da is hardly one to offer anyone advice because he keeps doing everything wrong. Making repeated mistakes is inevitable in regards to parenting (and is, in fact, a time-honored tradition). Why? Because your memory is the first to go. Over the years, lack of sleep, saying the same things over and over again, cleaning the same things over and over again, saying the same things over and over again while cleaning the same things over and over again... this stuff really takes a toll.

Case in point: last night was corn dogs for the kids and leftover spaghetti and meatballs for Ma-ma; Da-da wasn't that hungry (because he's about two steps from shuffling off his mortal coil), so he served as chef, maitre'd, referee and indentured servant, as usual. And as usual, seeing what Ma-ma's eating made both boys want it, too (despite their maddening inability to eat leftovers). Whatever. After the meal, Da-da noticed that his oldest, Nagurski, had not eaten that much of his spaghetti and meatballs, opting for other elements of the meal. Da-da's early warning system kicked in and he started to take the food to the trash... then thought, Well, he's hardly touched it, accompanied by that internecine race-memory phrase whispered in Da-da's mind by countless ghost mothers across the eons: IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO WASTE THAT.

Yup. You guessed it. Da-da woke up sick this morning.

Note to new and future parents: small children are scale models of the Center for Disease Control (CDC), but without the control. Even though Da-da's sons aren't sick, they're carriers for every preschool and elementary microorganism beastie lurking about for an unsuspecting mammalian digestive tract or mucous membrane.

So, Lesson 492: Don't Eat Your Kid's Food.

Ug. Da-da's GORGON cold medicine is... turning... him... to... stone...

Nooooooo!

EAT AT DA-DA's (or don't and see if he cares)

In case you haven't noticed (what's wrong with you, anyway?), Da-da has added a little sidebar item on the right-hand side (beneath the pic of Da-da hanging by a horse bone stuck through his chest) that's basically the menu for the week. This changes as Da-da's mood changes, which makes it dynamic indeed. Here's the latest:

• Thurs - Burgers got moved here as this week's menu caught fire and crashed into Haddonfield, NJ.
• Fri - Sausage lasagna, but it depends on the weather. Da-da actually constructed it for New Year's, as the secondary lasagna to the primary. Huh? Basically, Da-da made too much so he had enough left over to make a small second. Blah blah blah. Dish to be partnered with a Ravenswood zin; always good and inexpensive. Da-da is all about frugality -- except when he makes lasagna.

Note that Bronko and Nagurski -- three and five, respectively -- have completely different palates and apparent dietary requirements, as does Ma-ma (who can't eat ANYTHING spicy, sniff)... and well, Da-da likes what he likes (SPICY). Trained as a backwoods/low country/high desert chef d'resistance, Short-order Da-da can whip up balanced and interesting indy plates of any ethnicity, simplicity or complexity, but this is inefficient, annoying and time consuming -- and costly. It makes Da-da crazy. And Da-da was already crazy. Da-da has yet to find ONE THING that the boys and Ma-ma will all eat, and frankly, he's ready to ditch that supermodel and install the Dadabot 3000, an unerring machine that will make ONE healthy meal and deposit it hot and steamy on the table for all to either eat, or not eat. You want your own special dish? Get a job and go out to dinner every night you little boogers. Da-da will be outside drinking coffee.