Parenting Problems

Unaware of Internet Awareness

Have you seen the photo where a responsible mom or teacher takes a photo requesting people to share so they can teach children that the internet is a wild and dangerous place? Of course you have. About once a week I think. Such a powerful message.

Everyone knows that once a photo hits the internet it becomes this viral monster that is directed to every pervert and otherwise inappropriate person imaginable. Photos are laced with every possible trace of information giving coordinates, birth certificate, blood type, and a list of your fears. In fact, if you have GPS turned on for the Android, it might just post a dating profile on Craig’s list without your permission. Are you paranoid yet? Ok good.

This is a creepy photo. Ii don't like thinking about faceless bubble people poking around my internet.

This is a creepy photo. I don’t like thinking about faceless bubble people poking around my internet.

What can we do about this crazy and ever present danger?

I think the answer may lie within blogging itself. Anyone who has a blog on WordPress or Blogger or even Facebook knows that the idea of some photo or post circling the globe just because you hit POST, is a complete falsehood. At best it is a pipe dream. Bloggers constantly network to peddle their goods. Like me and I like back. Follow this and follow that. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine. I think most of the time it is like selling hymnals at choir practice but I do enjoy the company. There are some really interesting people and talented writers floating around out here but parts of the internet world make me scratch my head.

Some of the most popular posts are instructional posts on how to get more people to read your posts. Maybe we don’t need to be teaching children that simple photos go viral. Maybe that creates unrealistic expectations for actually having an audience in the real world. Also, to tell a teenager at the peak of attention seeking behavior that the internet reaches everyone and it is forever, may not end well. I don’t know the correct answer but I am curious how far one of those types of posts would go.

So in an effort to teach my children about the power of internet and social media, I need you to Reblog or Share and post your Country and nearest City in the Comments. If you have a secret persona just make up some place cool but don’t skip the sharing part. You don’t want my kids to grow up thinking the internet is safe now would you?

So if you hate chain letters or those posts where if you don’t forward to ten people your goldfish will die, this one is for you. This is totally different. Like completely. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.


My kids directly contradict the very nature of the Golden Rule as moral guidance. Rule: “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”

That sounds like it should be solid right?

I don’t like having something stolen so I don’t steal from others. That sounds easy.

Can you think of an easy example? Maybe it is “I don’t like being robbed at gunpoint so I won’t carjack anyone tomorrow.” Yep, solid rule. Seems to work every time.

Then I lived with Don Threeto. Yet again I have overheard the girls talking and thought that maybe I should offer some fatherly advice. I hear, faintly from the living room, “…you do it hard and then I’ll do it too.” That snippet of conversation was followed by a smacking of skin and some giggling. I walk around the corner and Lady Bug is standing in front of Threeto and she has a bright red cheek but a confusing smile. All I could think was, “Oh God there are two of them. Why is she smiling?”


I start the standard dad conversation:

Underdaddy: “What is going on in here?”

Threeto: Just some smacking.

Underdaddy: We don’t need to smack each other. We have talked about this. (I am trying my best not to laugh, who says “Just some smacking”. That’s like saying oh you know just some kidney punching and blood peeing, no big deal.)

Threeto: But I like to fight.

Underdaddy: I know but we’ve talked about this. There are lots of reasons. Women make less money in the MMA and getting to the top is really hard. Not everyone likes fighting.

Threeto: Can she punch me?

Underdaddy: No! We are done punching anyone. I forbid anything physical-not even squeeze hugs. Go sit in the corner and think of flowers or something.


I know that this has happened before and I am confused about kids who enjoy getting “roughed up”. How do I teach her about being kind to others when her disappointment sometimes includes not getting punched by her sister. The proper application of the Golden Rule would have three of four daughters getting their asses whipped by Threeto because you know, “Do unto others..”.

A brief thought. We can’t all be communal vibes of happiness.

So if you have children who test the moral fabric of society, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Yard Biscuits

Legend has it that my youngest sister was a bold child. She had thick skin and strong opinions from birth. We always had a swimming pool when I was growing up and if the boys had to pee then they would run out to the yard and pee. My sister, at three years old, saw no reason why she couldn’t do the same so she would run out and pee in the yard too. The parents thought this was funny and this is where the “be careful what you say” lesson started for all of us, about twenty years ago.

The fruition of this lesson came about at the very same pool. One innocent afternoon cookout. Granddaddy, Grandmother, Myself, Mother and my four children, Brother and his Girlfriend are grilling, swimming, and hanging out. To protect the innocent I will call the children One, Two, Three, and Four. The children are swigging Capri-Sun by the gallon and racing back and forth into the house to pee. I think to myself, “we used to pee in the yard”. I say out loud, “Hey kids if you have to go, go in the yard. Your Aunt did it. So can you.”
Let’s take a quick timeout for some people to gather their thoughts. Yes, I encouraged my kids to pee in the yard. This is the south and that is fairly common. Now let’s continue.

I don’t get any complaints and sure enough one of them jumps out of the pool and runs into the yard. She squats and pees like a champ. Good job Don Threeto, good job. No more in and out of the house, no more mowing the grass in that area. Win-Win.

Jane and Prima follow suit in the next few minutes and everyone has street cred for peeing in the yard. Lady Bug still pees her pants at this point which according to Billy Madison is the ultimate cool. My sister would be proud.

I pat myself on the back for a job well done and continue talking to my father as we turn burgers on the grill. The rest of the adults are sitting at a poolside table and talking. I slightly notice that Don Threeto gets out of the pool again and trots off to the yard, damn these kids pee a lot. Like little Cocker Spaniels. A moment later I notice that the other adults are watching Threeto with curiosity. I start to ask my dad what they are looking at because I am trying to flip burgers but he just turns me around to face the yard. It took me a second to process what I saw.
Threeto is in the center of the yard in a low squat. She was doing a pee method sort of like drunk college girls who don’t want to pee on their shoes. A balance between stability and distance. Then I notice that Don Threeto is going number two. On the lawn. In front of everyone. On the upside she looked like a pro. She stood up and ran back to the pool like nothing happened.

I couldn’t say anything, it was my fault, “If you have to go, go in the yard.”

I also started to realize that someone would have to remove this man-log from the lawn and I barely got turned before my father was handing me a plastic bag and some napkins. I walked the Green Mile to that steaming pile of yard biscuit. My traumatized brain has repressed the details but I cleaned human turd off the lawn that day. Soap doesn’t clean that feeling off your hand. They don’t make enough napkins to hide the warmth and texture or to filter that ‘just laid’ smell. I don’t know when the others stopped laughing but I do know that I never started.

So if your kid has never dumped a big old pickley number two in a dense Bermuda grass lawn and you never had to clean it up with two cheap Kroger bags and some party napkins, you might be a better parent than me. You’re welcome.

Underdaddy to the Rescue.