“Raising kids may be a thankless job with ridiculous hours, but at least the pay sucks.”
While Gaffigan’s comedy specials bring plenty of belly laughs, the book was much more subtle. Maybe I’m just hilarious, or do all pale skinned people who bare fruit resembling Hitler youth experience most of the same things???? I suspect that those without children would have many more guffaws than those whose homes are already filled with the tiny terrorists. That’s not to say the book isn’t enjoyable – it’s just not “wet your pants from laughing” funny (if you’ve had more than one child, you’ll understand the reference).
Highlights for me were all of the opinions Gaffigan and I have in common (these moments probably confirm I am a huge asshole, but having someone else write them down for all eternity took some weight off my soul). These things include the annoyance of the Anne Geddes babies-as-flowers images, the joy of watching a teenager wipe out while on a skateboard, the fear that you will have an ugly baby, chiming in when your child is being bullied and feeling victorious when you’ve made their attacker run away crying, needing someone to hold you back from disciplining someone else’s rotten offspring, the dream of having an option of enrolling your child in a school “for everyone WITHOUT a nut allergy” to make packing a lunch easy again, the necessity of an “8 hour ladies luncheon” every once in awhile with your best friend (after which you come home completely inebriated) and my absolute favorite – if you are complaining about all the things you do with/for your kid – it means you are actually DOING things with/for your kid and therefore probably have every right to complain.