Michael Keaton may be a better Batman, but I’m a better Mr. Mom

I think we’re starting to round a corner.

If my life were the movie “Mr. Mom”, then the Rocky theme would start playing and you’d see clips of me running, playing crossing guard, cleaning the windows – on the outside!  I know, this is serious. No one cleans the outside of the windows unless they actually mean business.

What was the point, you ask, that was the moment of the change?

Well, yesterday I read to Claire’s kindergarten class.  It was great.  Two books were read aloud: The Pigeon Finds a Hotdog, and There is a Bird on My Head!  Both books are written by Mo Willems, and are great.  If you don’t believe me, you can ask any of the ladies that teach 9th grade at East High.  Some lunches when I subbed over there, I would break out Mo and we would laugh.  Mr. Willems has quite a way with words.

I have quite a way with voicing his words.  We make a good team.

So, I dropped Lily off at preschool then headed over to Northside elementary and read to Claire’s class.  They laughed, I laughed.  We had a good time.

But this was the exact moment of the change… I got involved.  I have begun to take extremely seriously my role here at the house.  I sit at home, and do a lot of housework.  I cook, I clean, I play with the girls, I do stuff.  But by taking a part in Claire’s class, I’ve now begun to reach Mr. Mom status.  Pretty soon Heather will be going to Hawaii to pitch some tuna campaign idea, and I’ll have some crisis because Martin Mull answers the phone.

I needed to get involved.  I can’t just sit here and pretend to do nothing.  1) it’s not my style.  2) what kind of father would I be if I had the opportunity and decided against it.  No, the change has occurred. I’m a scarf wearing,  Michael Keaton may be a better Batman than I will be, but I’m pretty sure I got this “Stay at home Dad” thing off to a much better start.


2 thoughts on “Michael Keaton may be a better Batman, but I’m a better Mr. Mom

  1. Great post!

    My husband is also super involved with our son and my daughter. He gets offended if people ask him if he’s ‘babysitting’ while I’m out running errands. Of course I’m not babysitting, he’ll say. They’re my CHILDREN.

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