And don’t you even try to pierce the thin veil of self-delusion that allows me to believe this.

Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash

They say the pandemic is closer to ending than ever before. What better time to look back on the highlights of my past twelve months in lockdown? They are as numerous as they are not at all hopelessly depressing, according to what I keep telling myself.

I remember with fondness the day I came to understand that life as we knew it had changed. Sadly, I would have to cancel my trip to Florida for Dad’s 70th birthday. But my sadness turned to elation when the airline generously gifted me a credit that wouldn’t expire for another six months.


Check out these new and exciting ways to execute your breakfast.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

You’re a man of simple tastes. When it comes to breakfast, nothing hits the spot quite like a steaming mug of coffee and a freshly baked doughnut. But these days, breakfast pastries can be so dry, it’s basically a criminal offense. So we’ve put our scientists to work on a solution that will give your breakfast that dose of flavor you so desperately crave.

Introducing… the Lethal Injection for your breakfast.

Here’s how it works. First, pick out your favorite pastry. Then, strap it to the gurney, insert the intravenous cannula, and fill the syringe with your favorite filling. Before…

That is how desperate I am for a distraction right now.

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It’s Friday night, and all I want to do is pour myself drink, plop down on my sofa, and watch you emerge from behind a curtain sporting the tuxedo your dad once wore to his high school prom and tell me I am in store for two hours that will make me question what is real and what is magic, but first where’s the bathroom because there’s a bunch of colorful scarves riding up your butt crack.

That’s right. All I want to do tonight is lay back, relax, and be underwhelmed by some half-baked tricks you learned last night…

Don’t worry, Cupcake. Daddy’s just a little pureed right now.

Let me start by saying I love my daughter.

I love the way she grins with pride after stacking her blocks or finishing a puzzle. I love the way she giggles when I tickle her feet or boop her on the nose. I love the way she surprises me with new words, spontaneous hugs, and recollections of events I had long forgotten.

But living with a toddler is not all boops and giggles. …

My childhood memories may be precious to me, but my daughter deserves an experience that’s all her own.

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You know that feeling you get every time a cherished holiday approaches?

The sweet nostalgia that washes over you?

For me, it’s like a hidden part of my brain opens up, releasing memories of the sights and sounds and feelings that touched me as a Jewish boy growing up in New England a few decades ago. I can hear Grandma’s voice belting out songs at the Passover Seder. I can taste my mom’s cranberry sauce running across my Thanksgiving plate, adding sweetness to everything it touched. …

Here are four strategies that have made it possible for me.

Photo by Derek Owens on Unsplash

Last Sunday morning, I committed a grave sin. I shambled into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and thinking my two-year-old daughter was occupied with her pop-up books, uttered,

“Alexa, play Amy Winehouse.”

My daughter, of course, recognized my mistake almost instantly. Before the music even started to play, she was at my feet, hysterical, shouting “Elmo Slide,” the name of her favorite Sesame Street song. She kept on shouting it, repeatedly, as if her shouting would overpower my music selection, erasing the act of vandalism I had apparently committed against her soul. …

If you watched my toddler for a day, you’d think so too. I decided to spend a day inside her brain to see how the world looks through a little person’s eyes.

Photo by Ronnie Overgoor on Unsplash

5:00 am: I’m awake, but it’s dark. I think I’ll let out a quick scream — just to remind Daddies I’m here — and then fall back to sleep.

7:00 am: I’m awake again. Now it’s light outside. Time to kick the wall until somebody comes to get me.

7:15 am: One of my daddies is standing next to my crib. His voice sounds nice, but he looks like death. “Hi,” I say. Oh, there’s something purple on my bookshelf. I should point to that and say “purple” incessantly until Daddy gets it for me.

7:30 am: I just sucked…

Parents are out of work, and kids are home from school. But our littlest ones are missing out just the same.

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

Spring has long been my favorite season. In spring, everything is on the upswing. The weather is getting warmer, the landscape is getting greener, the hours of sunlight are increasing by the day. At long last, we can take in the sights and sounds of people enjoying themselves outdoors.

This spring was going to be special. It was going to be full of fun for my almost-two-year-old daughter. Little did I know, this spring would unfold unlike any spring we have ever known.

This spring, when my daughter and I step outside, we can feel the warm breeze and we…

The long-awaited phone call kicked off a tumultuous night. But I got through it by remembering the joy that awaited me in the morning.

Photo by Jimmy Conover on Unsplash

It was a Tuesday afternoon at the office, and my eyes were glued to the computer screen. All day I had been redlining the standing argument in a brief that was due to be filed by the end of the week. My desk was strewn with files and notepads, and my cursor was darting between a Word document and fifteen active tabs in Google Chrome.

Suddenly I felt a buzzing in my pocket.


“Matt, it’s Jocelyn from the adoption agency. You’re going to want to sit down.”

I was already sitting, but the words launched me up out of…

Because my daughter is adopted and has two dads, her journey will always be different, but I’ll do my best to point her in the right direction as she makes her way through the world.

Photo: Caiaimage/Tom Merton/Getty Images

I was in middle school when I realized I was different. My friends were starting to talk about girls, and as much as I tried to fake it, I didn’t share in their excitement. I had discovered I was gay, and it was terrifying.

“Gay” was the ultimate insult you heard thrown around at recess. It was a fate worse than any other, and it had somehow fallen upon me. I dreaded every school dance, every game of Truth or Dare, every occasion that required me to hide my true self and reminded me that I was different from everybody…

Matthew R

DC-area lawyer, writer, husband, and dad.

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