Happiness Is The Quiet Lull

I Remember My Wife And I Used To Get On Plane And See Everybody Else With Their Babies. They'd Be Putting Strollers And Car Seats Up Above, And We'd Think: Oh, Please Lord, Don't Make Us Go Through That

My Parenting Style Could Be Described As Not Good Cop Or Bad Cop So Much As Nervous Cop. I'm Always Yelling For Somebody To Stop Because They're About To Get Hurt. I'm The Take A Jacket, Slow Down Guy.

People Often Ask Me, "what's The Difference Between Couplehood And Babyhood?" In A Word? Moisture. Everything In My Life Is Now More Moist. Between Your Spittle, Your Diapers, Your Spit-up And Drool, You Got Your Baby Food, Your Wipes, Your Formula, Your Leaky Bottles, Sweaty Baby Backs, And Numerous Other Untraceable Sources-all Creating An Ever-present Moistness In My Life, Which Heretofore Was Mainly Dry.

Middle Names Are Kind Of Like Vice Presidents: It's A Fine Distinction And Certainly An Honor, But You're Never Not Aware That Someone Else Got The Real Job.

Three Has Always Been Tougher Than Two. Think Of Any Of Your Famous Threesomes. The Three Stooges? Look At The Anger There. My Bet Is That Before Curly Was Born, Moe And Larry Could Play Together For Hours Without Even A Single Poke In The Eye. Huey, Dewey, And Louie? Donald Duck Never Had A Moment's Peace. The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly? I Rest My Case.