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“Stop fighting over baby Jesus!”
I uttered this imperative not to break up students wrangling over a theological point that should have been settled by the Council of Nicaea, but because my children were squabbling over a plastic nativity set. It was a typical dad moment, except for the timing. This exclamation happened mid-morning on a weekday when I was, as usual, home with the kids.
At its best, being a stay-at-home dad resembles Marx’s idyllic description of communism: I raise children in the morning, work on the house during naptime, and philosophize in the evening. At least one high-flying friend has told me it sounds ideal—I get to be with my kids all day while writing about a wide range of cultural, political, and philosophical issues. And sometimes it is. But the downside of getting to have it all like this is that I have to deal with it all. If some days have a delightful blend of productivity and playing with the kids, on other days the dishes are piled high, my home improvement skills aren’t up to the task, I can’t make a column flow, and the kids won’t stop squawking at me and each other.
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