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Daddy Daydreamer

Click Clack

A poem

Son painting

Click Clack

Draw, colour,
click clack
of markers
opening,
closing—
intently gazing
at the "Colourful
Car Show."

Create
in wonder,
combination of
hues: RGB, CMYK
colour by addition,
colour by subtraction,
colouring my memories
of joy and childhood,
reminding me
of myself at
your age.

Network maze at Sci-tech museum

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Posted in: poetry

May 12, 2016

I wish I embraced Taiwanese culture as a kid

Rejecting my ethnicity exposed a childhood insecurity with being different

Chinese food with beers

“Dad, why do you look different from us?” my son asked, over dinner.

“Whaddya mean?” I replied, glancing at some stir-fried bok choy.

“You're darker than us,” he said, comparing my skin tone to his and his brother’s. “Why is that?”

“Um,” I stuttered, “the ingredients that A-Kong and A-Ma made me with are a bit different than the . . .

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April 28, 2016

Boys' Night

A poem

popcorn

Boys' Night

When Mommy goes out
it is our favourite time,
for it is our time—
it is boys' night.

Crack open the chips,
turn on a flick;
what shall it be?

Doesn't really matter—
it is boys' night.

Daddy, sit beside me!
No, Dad, sit beside me!
Boys, I'll sit in the middle.
Geez, Dad, you're smart.

No . . .

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April 14, 2016

I wanna be a stay-at-home dad and a writer when I grow up

Helping my son write is quality time together

Timeline Grade 1

Youngest makes his way downstairs and asks: “Dad, can I help you?”

“Help me with lunches?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm done. I did them while I made supper.”

“What are you doing?” he inquires.

“I'm writing.”

“Can I write a story?”

“Sure!” I answer. He cuddles up beside me. “So, what do you want to write? You need a title.”

“Um, my title is The Name . . .

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March 31, 2016

When I take my children to the park, I can't resist the urge to discipline other kids

Disciplining other people’s children can be a dicey business

child climbing ropes

This essay originally appeared in The Globe and Mail on January 26, 2016.

Disciplining other people’s children can be a dicey business. I sometimes face this issue at our neighbourhood park, where I often take my kids after school.

I am a former teacher, so the playground is very familiar to me: It’s where a different type of education . . .

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March 17, 2016

Fuzzy Bunny and the Case of the Missing Seaweed

A story by youngest, as told to Dad

Plot developed by youngest, aged 4 at the time.

"S, are you sure you don't want to play outside?" asked Dad.

"I'm going to stay inside with Fuzzy Bunny," said S.

"Okay, I'll be outside with J," said Dad. "I'll check in with you every five minutes."

Draft story outline

S turned to Fuzzy Bunny and said: . . .

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March 03, 2016

The older I get, the more I become like my dad

It was the height of hubris to think I could outwit my father

“When are you going to stop sneaking out in the middle of the night?” my dad asked, poker-faced.

The gig was up.

When I was a teenager, in order to join my friends for some late-night debauchery, I had to circumvent our home security system. I couldn’t risk waking my parents by disarming the alarm and leaving through the front door. My only . . .

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February 18, 2016

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