Dog Training Done Right: Dogs In Harmony teaches the human and the dog

When I first got my Aussie Shepherd puppy, Corben, we had a week of blissful quiet. He was adorable and confused and shy, and still very young. After that first week, though, he realized that everything the light touched was his…and he became a typical crazy puppy. Well, with the exception that he was startling bright. This meant that he was double trouble.

And so Lynn Hyndman entered my life.

Lynn, who is owner and trainer at Dogs In Harmony here in Ottawa, Ontario, came to visit before Corben even arrived. She helped us puppy-proof the house, prepare a crate, and talk about puppy maintenance. By the time his first training day came around and he was being a nutbar, I was honestly convinced I couldn’t handle this whole puppy thing at all. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t sit still, wouldn’t stop chewing things, and wouldn’t stop running around.

Lynn came in, pulled out her bag of tricks, and within ten minutes she had that 10 week-old puppy doing perfect ‘sits’. He was housetrained within a week, and stopped chewing non-toy items within a month. She made it look effortless, the way someone else might tie a shoe or chop a carrot—like it was nothing at all. Indeed, compared to some of the small-brained breeds she undoubtedly works with, Corben was likely a treat to teach.

Lynn has been our constant cheerleader and teacher as Corben has met and exceeded all his basic obedience and manners training, and is now well into his specialized training for his ‘day job’. However, Dogs in Harmony does not usually do the specialty work Corben gets for his job; indeed, you can hire Dogs in Harmony for your own dog anytime, at any age.

Lynn is a Professional Dog Trainer and a member of the Canadian Association for Professional Pet Dog Trainers. You may recognize her from her segments on Rogers Daytime, as well. On top of all this, she volunteers her time with various doggie non-profits, and is a Mentor Trainer for the Animal Behaviour College, testing and training novice dog trainers as well. All these credentials aside, what makes Lynn so incredible is her genuine adoration for her field.

Lynn teaching Corben to ignore
birds and squirrels.

Lynn has a natural way of explaining how a dog works, and this is key in dog training because the majority of the education happens to the owner, not the dog. I haven’t found a behaviour yet that Lynn can’t figure out how to retrain. She’s a steadfast professional, never breaking stride even when Corben does the cutest bad things—though we often laugh about them afterwards. Watching her work is like watching a fish swim: it’s as if she was born with a clicker and a leash in her hand. Lynn focuses her practice on positive, rather than punitive, behaviour correction techniques, and the results are proof-positive that you don’t ever have to whack a dog with a newspaper to stop a troublesome habit. Indeed, she gets much better results by not doing such things.

With Lynn’s guidance, Corben has become the most well-behaved dog I have ever known. And thanks to her help, he’s also one of the happiest, well adjusted dogs, too. I feel like I’ve learned how to communicate with my pup in a way that he understands and appreciates. Everyone leaves a training moment feeling accomplished; it’s like my dog and I are a team, one built on mutual respect and patience. I truly wish I’d met her when I adopted my rescued pug many years back, as I understand now how it’s never too late to teach even an old dog a new trick.

 

Lynn LOVES dogs, and it's apparent in her wonderful
training style.

This is my unsolicited commendation of Dogs in Harmony and Lynn Hyndman’s work. It’s also my very public way of saying thank you to her for all her work, research, and support as I’ve swung from, “Please tell me how to restrain myself from stuffing this puppy in the blender,” to “Okay, this dog is awesome and I can’t wait to see him every morning”. Thank you, Lynn, for your hard work with us. Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful you found your calling.

Tips For Painting Large Furniture: My Buffet Hutch

TIPS FOR PAINTING LARGE FURNITURE, AS SHOWN ON A BUFFET HUTCH

It’s been a while since we DIY’ed anything here on the Girl, Crafted blog, mostly because I’ve been just painting a lot of furniture and that can get a bit dry (no pun intended). But I finished a really large piece this week and I wanted to share how fabulously well it came out. There are some great tips that came to mind while I worked on it, so I’ll share them here.

SANDING AND PRIMING IS A MUST.

I have two nightstands, circa 1970, that I did not sand before painting. The result is that their wonderful Cozumel blue paint is slowly chipping off. I know sanding sucks. I know you want to skip right to painting, and I know that lots of paints come with built-in primers now. But you will pay for your impatience with touch-up coats. Save yourself the hassle and do a good job sanding and priming to start with.

I used a mouse sander for most of this job. A mouse sander is really cheap (usually under $20.00) and even an urban-raised city slicker like me can use it. Choose a sandpaper that will rough the surface up without actually damaging it. You can ask your local hardware store clerk for help with this. You really just want to create some ‘tooth’—some texture to the surface.

Priming seems tedious, but I can tell you that on this dark piece of furniture, even with primer, I had to apply 3 or 4 coats of every colour.

CHOOSE YOUR FINISH CAREFULLY

Paints come in a range of finishes: eggshell, semi-gloss, high-gloss, etc. The higher the gloss, the better the paint will typically hold up to wiping and use. But the trade-off is that often, the high-gloss paints require more coats to be truly opaque. If this is a problem and you want to use a matte finish paint (for instance, if you grab just the right colour from the mis-tints bin at a discount) be sure to varnish your piece afterwards. There are great water-based varnishes available now.

Also, and this should go without saying: use proper house paint for this kind of work, not craft or artist acrylics. The extra cost will be worth it, and you can find great mis-tints on summer weekends in the hardware store for cheap.

CHECK TWICE

If you’re doing a multi-step piece like this hutch was, be sure to have your drawing or guide picture with you at all times. You do NOT want to paint a section the wrong colour and have to change it afterwards. Chances are, it’ll make that one section look just a tiny bit different in tone or texture.

CHECK THE WEATHER

We did check the weather, and the promised two days of sunshine was a lie. This meant that my hutch got rained on overnight, had to be dried thoroughly, and was dragged by two girls with stick-like arms for the second day where I had to finish it indoors. Be ready for anything if you’re painting outside.

PAINTER’S TAPE IS YOUR BFF, BUT IT’S NOT PERFECT

I used a lot of painter’s tape to keep edges smooth and perfect in sections where two colours join up, but it’s not a perfect system. There is usually some minor bleeding around the edges, especially on a three dimensional piece of furniture. Be ready to wait until all the paint is dry and then use a sponge brush or other high-control brush to carefully touch up the bleeding.

TAKE OFF THE HARDWARE

This is a step I always forget, except this time my best friend stopped by and caught me before it was too late. Sometimes you can’t get the hardware off—the hinges on the bottom cupboards, for example, called for some strange martian screwdriver we didn’t have—so you’ll have to decide: do you paint that hardware or try to keep it paint-free with tape? We painted the hardware here, but in a pinch I could use a q-tip with some paint thinner later on and clean them up again.

PATIENCE

A project this size is going to take time. I watched an entire season of The Mindy Project and a half-season of Scrubs while doing this project. Put the appropriate time aside for your work, otherwise if you’re like me, you’ll get halfway through, have to put your paints away, and then it’ll be months before you find time again to finish it.

BE FEARLESS

This hutch was free, as it was headed to the trash. Yes, it’s a lovely piece of wood, but no one wanted it and the dark colour was wrong in my home. I hear it’s a sin to paint solid wood, but the reality is this piece was going to the junkyard unless I found a way to love it. Now it holds all my ponies and unicorns, plus all my craft fabric and all my in-progress paperwork for my business. Worst case scenario? The paint job could have gone wrong and I would have had to start again. No big deal. Be fearless and try your best!

Following Girl, Crafted All Over the Internet

Some weeks I have a lot of time to blog on here, and some weeks I don't. Some of you crazy people may miss me from time to time. I realized this morning that I don't often tell you where else on the internet you can find me in a day. Here are some good places to start:

WHERE I BLOG (OTHER THAN HERE):

Of course, there's Capital Geek Girls. You can find me there pretty frequently. You can also watch our YouTube show, Two Girls Talking. We're currently trying to learn how to use iMovie to do some filming. We'll see if that results in fewer audio and camera issues. But they're kind of hilarious.



You can also find me waxing eloquent about marketing on Bikini Marketing. By day I'm a marketer and social media consultant, plus a part-time college prof in a business program, so have some neato things to say on this topic. And I'm never dry, as you well know.

WHERE I POST STUFF

If you haven't joined the Girl, Crafted Facebook page, I suggest you do. It's a good place to be reminded of posts that come out. After you 'like' the page, hover over the word 'like' until a drop-down menu appears, then click 'get notifications'. That way you'll always see my posts in your newsfeed. It'll be fun, I swear.

There's also my instagram, which I've been really enjoying lately. I post a lot of pictures there, many of my dog. He's cute so you'll like it, I swear.

Pinterest is my other big love. I grab a lot of recipes and inspirational stuff there.

And Twitter...well, I'm not the Tweeter I used to be, because it's gotten a bit boring on Twitter these days, but if you want to chat, I'm always up for some back and forth!

That's a good place to start. If you still can't get enough at me at that point, you may be a stalker.

How Not To Talk To A Service Dog Team

Some of you diehard readers know that I am in the middle ofthe lengthy yet rewarding process of training my own service dog. Corben is a bit of a social media celebrity—or at least I think so, as I post pictures of him regularly. He is 11 months old now, and acing his training. He’s with me most of the time now, and he’s helping me a lot with my daily life. And he’s ridiculously cute, so he’s kind of like a visual form of Prozac. Win-win, right?

Well, most of the time.

I’ve discovered that when you appear able-bodied and have a service dog with you, you’re going to experience a lot of bizarre behaviour from strangers. I think we can use these examples as a ‘How not to talk to a service dog team’ sort of list. Here it goes.

HOW NOT TO TALK TO A SERVICE DOG TEAM

1. DON’T HOLD THEM UP.

Yes, I have a service dog. Yes, he’s interesting. No, I don’t always have time to talk to you about him. Last week Corben and I got onto an elevator that a man had just vacated. As the door was closing, I saw this man turn on his heel and shove his hand into the door to keep it open. As the emergency system kicked in and the door slid open, he stared at us and said, “Is that a service dog?” Yes, I said. “Well…can you explain that to me?” I’m late, I said. “Oh. Oh! Okay…” said the man, and finally let the door shut. Yes, this really happened. Yes, I’m unimpressed.

2. DON’T ASK WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE HANDLER.

Don't get me wrong, I love talking about dogs and my dog in particular. But if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “He’s your dog? What’s he for?” I’d have enough money to never worry about the cost of Corben’s training ever again. The problem with this question is that you are basically asking me, a stranger, to tell you what my disability is. Sometimes I even get this question from acquaintances or friends I don’t see often. Most frequently, I’m asked this in a crowded room with lots of eager ears around. No, I don’t want to explain to anyone what’s wrong with me.

 

He doesn't actually do housework.

3. DON’T KEEP ASKING WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE HANDLER.

Okay, we all slip up sometimes. It’s possible not to realize that a) you’re asking someone to divulge their personal health challenge, and b) that that’s incredibly rude. But if the conversation goes like this:

STRANGER: What’s the dog for?

ME: Service.

STRANGER: What kind of service?

ME: Medical alert.

STRANGER: What’s that mean?

ME: It means he helps me by alerting me.

STRANGER: Okayyyy, but what’s the problem with you that he’s watching for?

…you’ve pushed too far. “Medical alert” means, “I have a medical problem.” Look at it this way: if I came up to you on the street, stood in front of you, and said, “I have a medical problem.”—without Corben beside me, just for no good reason, wouldn’t you think I was being socially awkward? Wouldn’t that seem like an over-share? The presence of a service dog does not mean you should feel all rules of polite conduct are moot.

3. DON’T ASSUME THE ABLE-BODIED HANDLER IS A TRAINER.

It’s easy for me to hide sometimes behind the assumption that I’m just a dog trainer. Honestly, many of us with service dogs do let this assumption ride in some awkward situations. But in some ways, it diminishes what Corben and I are to each other. It also daily reminds me that I look healthy, so the fact that I’m daily struggling with a serious medical problem is invisible and therefor, not acknowledged. Anyone who’ suffered through a non-visible health problem can relate to this. It’s like visiting your aunt and having her repeatedly offer you ice cream even though she knows you’re lactose intolerant but just never remembers. In a way, the refusal of people to consider I may have a disability makes me feel even more invisible.

4. DON’T PET THE DAMNED DOG. 

No, you can’t pet him. See how small his brain cavity is? The smartest dogs in the world have only the reasoning capacity of a 12 year-old. If I came to your 12 year-old’s math class and started petting her while she was doing an exam, don’t you think she’d make more mistakes than usual? Every time we’re out together, Corben is performing his own version of a math exam. Every time you try to pet him, you mess up his concentration. Yes, it’s cute when he breaks stride and wriggles to be patted. No, you’re not giving him a pleasant break in his day. You are essentially giving pixie sticks to that aforementioned 12 year-old and then leaving me to get him focused back on his math test.

5. DON’T POINT HIM OUT TO YOUR TODDLERS.

If you petting him is like a pixie stick, a toddler barking at my dog—yes, they bark at him—is you giving Corben a litre of Red Bull. All concentration is lost, and any work I need him doing isn’t going to happen. I don’t run up and pet your toddlers; please keep your kids off of my toddler.

6. DON’T FORGET TO EDUCATE YOUR STAFF.

Ottawa is pretty good about not giving us a hard time. However, I went out for dinner with a friend a couple weeks ago, and a young waiter informed us that dogs weren’t allowed in the restaurant. After I pointed out his vest and told him we had our papers in my bag, he put his hands on his hips, cocked his head and said, “Yeah right. What’s wrong with you that you need a dog?” I don’t have to explain this and I’m not going to. Shop owners, be sure that even your youngest staff understand that it’s a human rights violation to kick me out of a store for having a dog, and it’s also wrong to demand to know what my health problem is.

7. DON’T EVER ASSUME WE’RE FAKING IT.

At Ottawa Comiccon this year, I managed to attend 2 out of 3 days. This is in huge crowds with poor air circulation and a lot of noise. I was able to do this because I had Corben. At one point while I was looking at a vendor table, my friend heard a man mutter something about, “strapping a vest on his dog, too, just to bring him to the con”. MJ rocks, so she turned to him and said, “Yeah, maybe that would be fun, except this is a real service dog.” You’ll occasionally hear horror stories of people faking service dogs, but I haven’t seen it happen around here, and when you look at Corben’s behaviour, you’d have to be an idiot not to see just how heavily trained he is.

8. DON’T CALL IT A PRIVILEGE.

After I answer all the questions people throw at me about my dog, their curiosity sated, I will often get a comment like, “Well how nice for you that you get to take your dog everywhere! Well I sure wish I could take my dog with me everywhere!” Listen to what you’re saying, people. You’re telling me I’m privileged because I have a disability where my best tool for normal daily living is having to raise, train, and cart a dog around with me everywhere I go. Yes, he’s cute and fuzzy. No, in many ways he does not make life easier. When I leave the house, I have to be aware of all his needs plus my own. I have to look for ways to traverse a mall without the use of an escalator. I have to choose seating in restaurants based on where my dog’s fat butt won’t get tripped on. I have to get special dispensation to take him on a plane. But yes, he is lovely and he does make my days a hundred times better. So I think it’s bogus to suggest that having a service dog is a lucky privilege; I think it’s more of a karmic balancing. I have to live with this shitty disability for the rest of my life, but the trade-off is that I get to have a sweet-faced companion come along with me.

9. DON’T ASSUME THE DOG IS A SIGN OF WEAKNESS.

I had a job interview this spring. I got to the second round before I mentioned Corben, who I’d purposely left at home for the first round. When I mentioned him, the interviewer started asking if I was really sure I could do the job, if (and I paraphrase here) I was so effed up that I needed a service dog. I pointed to my resume and said, “Everything you see on here that you like, I did with my disability present. The dog doesn’t make me less capable. He makes me more capable. I accomplished much of these things without him; imagine how much more I’ll do now that he’s with me.” She didn’t bite. She couldn’t shake her bias. The reality is, having a service dog means that people are daily reminded of my otherwise invisible disability. But instead of looking at Corben as a reminder of how I’m broken, try looking at him as a reminder of how I’ve soldered myself back together. He’s not a weakness; he’s a weapon against failure.

10. DON’T OVERTHINK IT.

It’s a dog, folks. You see dozens everyday walking around your neighbourhood. I don’t get what all the fuss is about. When you put all the attention on my dog, you make me feel like all the qualities I possess as a person are secondary…that my companion is all that defines me. Just relax and ignore him. It’s what he wants, anyway. Stop staring at the dog and get back to making eye contact with me. I’m here and better than ever.  

Back in the day. I can't believe he's grown up so much.

This is How I Text.

I got an email this weekend from a friend that just said, "Hi," and then proffered a hyperlink. So I texted him to let him know. He wrote me back, insisting I don't click on it. Okay, so I'm technologically challenged sometimes, but seriously, I know it's a bad idea to click on spam.

So anyway, stronger only than my sense of sarcastic humour is my willingness to take a joke ALL THE WAY. Observe.

For the record, his 'Okay, good' was sarcastic. He clearly thought it would end there.

The idea of pixelated carnage really tickled me, and I was prepared to describe an entire scene out of a monster movie in grave detail, but as you can see, my friend was apparently all busy with, you know, moving, and I assumed that didn't mean 'moving off the couch', so you know...I had to wrap it up.

I'll take a bow here, for being awesome. And taking sarcasm alllll the way.

Flashback: The Thigh-High Pantyhose Adventure

Girl, Crafted is my third personal blog, and one of over a half-dozen I've contributed to. Sometimes, some of my favourite stories get lost in the history of the internet. This is one I remembered today when a friend told me she was going for a job interview. This is a true story from a couple years ago and really did happen to me. I share these things so you will all feel better about your own fallible humanity. Laugh with me.

THE THIGH HIGH PANTYHOSE ADVENTURE

So today, in the interest of pursuing my career goals and better providing for my mini-family, I had a job interview for another part-time job. The hope was that it would fit in nicely with my existing work schedule, allowing me to bring home a little more bacon while expanding my growing repertoire of experience in my field. It’s one of those little jobs that you find and think, “Man, that sounds like a fun job.” It’s one of those little jobs that you find yourself really wanting to get.

Blowfish boots...cozy but not quite interview-appropriate.

This morning I dressed as best I could, given that our house is half-packed into boxes and most of my wardrobe is geared towards my day job, where I counsel teenagers all day. I learned long ago, you can’t counsel youth while you’re wearing a suit; so without getting dressed like I was headed to a gala or headed to a grade 12 geography class, my best option today was a white button-down blouse with a grey corduroy skirt that ended just above the knee. I threw on a pair of opaque black tights, put on my Blowfish-style boots, and packed my heels for the afternoon, when the interview was scheduled. I felt pretty set for my big day. That is, until I got to work.

My beloved heels.

It was as I was making phone calls at my desk that I realized my tights were just too, well, tight. They were driving me crazy and actually seemed to be causing my stomach some distress. Gurgling sounds kept rumbling through me, and I found myself tugging at the waistband rather frantically. I realized that my nervous belly was kicking in as I got closer to the interview time, and I knew then that I was going to have to get myself out of these things. I debated for a while before finally leaving my office and heading upstairs to the bathroom and smiling at a client in the waiting room on my way. I got into the bathroom, shut the door, and pulled off my tights….ahhhhh. So much better. On the way back to my office I balled the things up in my fist and pretended to be fascinated with a painting as I passed the waiting client, but I still caught her look of mild surprise as I made my way by in my wooly boots and albino-white legs.

I knew I needed to find something else to wear on my bottom half, but the only thing in my whole crazy car was a pair of neon pink-and-blue striped knee socks. Not exactly interview material. I drove to my meeting thinking frantically about what I could do. When I arrived in the neighbourhood and parked, I saw that I had 25 minutes until the interview; perfect! I would simply walk down the main street until I found a drug store. Moments later I came to discover that the pharmacy I used to frequent here had been turned into an insurance office. Gahhh. I continued down the strip a while, now aware that this particular skirt was the kind that rides up, further showing off my lily-white gams and getting me lots of raised eyebrows, considering it’s November and I otherwise looked like a fairly classy professional woman.

I half-ran into a nearby consignment shop, hoping they’d have some tights or nylons. No such luck. They had several pairs of tall fashion boots, which would have been something at least, but of course they were all size 6’s, as all consignment footwear is. Because no normal-sized adult has size 6 feet, you see, so when they’re dropped off they sit there for all eternity, mocking those women with average sized feet. Anyway, I digress.

NOT my butt. credit: dysfunctionaldoll.com

My last option, with 12 minutes left to spare, was almost unthinkable…but I’m an improviser. So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and ducked into the store next door: a sex shop. Since it was 2:18pm on a Wednesday, the store was deserted with the exception of two clerks. We all smiled at each other and said hello, and I began my frantic search for a pair of hose. The female clerk came over and asked me what I needed, and I just pointed to the most normal-looking pair on the wall—black thigh highs with a lacy bit at the top. She took them off the wall, charged me a startling thirty bucks for them, and sent me on my way. I stepped out of the store and ran back to my car. Only 8 minutes to go.

I yanked the thigh-highs out of their package as I pulled my skirt up over my waist and attempted to find a comfortable position in the passenger seat to pull these babies on. It was only then that I realized these hose came with a garter belt, and they were the kind that needed the garter to stay on. I began to laugh, a little hysterically, as I realized my mistake. I’d bought thigh-highs before, but they were the kind with the rubbery stuff at the top that kept them from slipping down. These had only a slight elastic band at the top, sewn into a garishly lacy cuff. I scrambled around with the included garter belt for a few moments until I realized it was way too big, way too complicated, and an old man was peering at me through the windshield. I decided I’d have to hope the nylons stayed put with just the little strip of elastic at the top. With shaking hands I pulled out my black velvet heels, threw them on, and managed a reasonable lipstick application. Then I was out the door and speed-walking up the long city block to the office.

There’s something about a pair of thigh-high stockings that makes a girl feel a little extra sexy. Yes, okay, when you actually get home and look in the mirror, there’s always a bit of thigh pudge that muffin-tops over the elastic at the top, but we don’t all have a Victoria’s Secret airbrush team. As I walked along, I felt cool, confident, and a little bit hot, and from the long looks I was getting from people, I was sure they noticed how sophisticated I felt…but it was as I arrived at the office building doors that I realized why people were staring: my stockings had let go of my thighs and had travelled down to my knees, where they were hanging, lacy and ridiculous, like weird flamboyant pirate boot-tops. My skirt had, of course, rode up again, leaving my thighs very exposed and fluorescent white. I stared at my reflection, mouth agape.

I did the only thing I could: I put my chin in the air, threw the big glass door wide open, and strode through the entire length of the giant, populated foyer with my head held high and my best catwalk stride. I arrived at the bathroom doors to find that the ladies’ room was out of service for painting; I hopped the cordon and ran inside, tore off the ludicrous nylons, and pulled my constrictive, horrible tights back on.

I hope the interviewers appreciated the brevity of my answers. I’m a wordy gal, if you haven’t noticed, and I’ve never had a job interview take less than the full hour; today, I kept the answers short and sweet, then ran home to strip off the terrible tights, the whole interview finished in under thirty minutes. I had to laugh for just a moment, though, when I sat down, took a deep breath, and the panel gave me my first question:

“What did you do to prepare for today’s interview?”

Oh, if you only knew.

A Realistic List of Ways to Be a Great Dad

I’ve noticed a lot of lists circulating this month about ‘how to be a great dad’. These lists are often absurdly idealistic. My parents both worked for a living, starting off dirt-poor and working crazy long days to get us comfortable. They are ‘salt of the earth’ people at their core, and they’re rough around the edges. I often describe myself as being raised by Klingons: a warrior race that prides itself on honor and a good fight. Maybe you’re the kind of dad that finds those endless lists of idealistic ‘dad rules’ to be helpful; but if you’re a normal human dad, maybe this list will better suit your needs.

THINGS MY DAD COULD TEACH OTHER DADS ABOUT LIFE AND PARENTING:

1. Teach your kids to make their own fun. If you don’t have money for the newest automated kid gadget, give her a gas mask, a flashlight, and a little brother to terrorize. In fact, even if you do have the money for the newest gadget, stick with the flashlight and the gas mask.

2. If you are a young family trying to make ends meet, be creative. Buy one MacDonald’s hamburger (the little kind), then share it in alternating bites between yourself, your son, and your daughter. Whoever gets the pickle is considered the winner. Meanwhile everyone gets a little treat.

3. If your kid asks you why Rocky Balboa is drinking raw eggs, explain it to her. If she then says she wants a raw egg too, give it to her. When she realizes it’s disgusting, be kind enough to let her throw it out.

4. Teach your daughter how to defend herself. Teach her also how to change her own tire, shoot a weapon, patch a boat, clean a fish, and drive a standard. Because knowledge is power and there’s nothing you should only teach a son, and Daddy don’t raise no damsels in distress.

5. Sing in traffic: make up songs to express your frustration with the bad drivers around you. If you’re lucky, you’ll one day hear your own daughter singing, “Sucking my braiiiiins directly out of my asshooooole” just like you did.

6. Always answer the ‘why’ questions, even when your kid is a teenager. Even if it takes six hours and it’s a fight between the two of you.

7. Put aside the kid shows, kid music, and Disney movies, and watch real movies with your kids. Cover their eyes when necessary but watch them anyway. Play classic rock and classical music. They’ll grow up lightyears ahead of the other kids in terms of wit, intelligence, and emotional literacy.

8. Get festive. Dress up like the Grim Reaper on Hallowe'en and chase the neighbourhood kids. Make potato spiders and drop them from a pulley system onto the trick-or-treaters. Basically, be a kid but with all the resources of an adult.

9. At bedtime, read to your kid the novels you’re already reading, yourself. She won’t understand everything that Terry Brooks or Isaac Asimov is saying, but she’ll feel like you respect her intelligence and she’ll develop a hunger to understand all the words.

10. To make housecleaning more enjoyable, blast the “Les Poissons” song from The Little Mermaid on full volume and have everyone sing along. For the rest of your kid’s life, doing chores will be a happy thing.

My experience has been that it’s not about the quantity of time, but the quality of time that you spend with your kid. And it’s often the things you didn’t know were ‘lessons’ that will stick in your kid’s brain. You don’t have to be Superman to raise a good kid; just aim to be unique, true to your values, and creative. The rest will work itself out.