It’s Father’s Day, so it seems like the perfect opportunity for me to put up my feet and relax, both in the real, as well as the digital, world. With that relaxed attitude in mind, I present to you a Guest Post written by my 12-year-old son Sam. Enjoy!

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“Earlier this week, my brother Ben and I were going to the library to get a book that Ben had wanted. Little did we know that we would run into a WWE CHAMPION! Or so we thought. We saw his belt. Saw the WWE world championship logo. So we walked away knowing that we had seen a WWE world champion, thinking he came down to visit Minnesota for the lakes.

Later, we walked by him to find that he was neither muscular nor athletic. In fact, he was quite skinny and well into his fifties.

Well, Ben went to checkout his book and I leaned on a bookshelf and waited. While waiting, I saw the WWE champion go up to a librarian and ask for some WWE books, as well as a workout book. I guess he was on his way to the WWE title, even in his fifties. When he does eventually win, I can proudly say that I met a WWE champion, while he prepared for training at the library, before his glory days.”

It was that treasured time of night, the time when we report on our daily activities.

I was first. I told a riveting story about how a Dove chocolate candy wrapper led me to the discovery of a fellow blogger, Kayla Z from North Dakota, who used to write at “Embracing Women of Today.”

Next up was my 12-year-old son Sam, who told the tale of a fellow that he saw in the library. What made this gentleman special was that he was wearing a WWE championship belt. Not particularly muscular and perhaps on the skinny side, Sam did not feel as if he was an actual WWE wrestler. Sam indicated that he may draft the story as a future Cookies by Dave guest post.

As my 10-year-old son Ben prepared to tell a tale of how his buddy opened not one, but two consecutive fortune cookies that both contained the sad directive, “Make friends,” Ben’s older brother, 15-year-old Jacob interrupted in an exasperated tone. “If you are going to tell your story, please do not have a long introduction like Dad and Sam.”

Well, it looks like we found both Jacob’s breaking point and the key to telling a good story in the Paulsen House. Don’t go third.

Goodnight, summer sun. May we all be fortunate enough to hang around as long as you.

I have a confession to make. Three days ago, I misplaced my shower shoes. For three days, I’ve thrown caution to the wind. For three days, I’ve showered in bare feet at the YMCA. For three days, I’ve showered without protection.

Don’t follow my lead. Don’t be a man who takes risks. Don’t be a man who showers dangerously.

Ah, time to settle down for the night and unwind in front of the television. There’s the remote, let’s go.

What? The television won’t turn on? (Insert man pressing the power button twenty times.) Ugh. Maybe it’s the batteries.

That explains it. Classic case of battery pillaging. Nice move, kids, and time to buy some AAs.

A recent hobby of my boys has been reading my old blog posts. Other than the occasional fight over air time (“Sam has 34 posts dedicated to him and I only have 29”), the data mining of my stories is somewhat flattering and certainly memory shaking. Stories that I had long forgotten get retold in the voices of my children. Also, it helps my viewership ratings, which is always nice.

Sounds lovely, huh? Well, until I realized that every word I type. Every story I tell. Every time that I verbally drool over Scarlett Johansson. Everything is now read by my kids.

Self-censorship, pass it on.

How do you know that this Little League coach is taking this evening’s 13-1 defeat poorly? I was not even up to a selfie with the grocery store’s cardboard cutout of Larry the Cable Guy, during my post-game milk run.

What? No selfie with a celebrity cardboard cutout? Coach Dave really is taking this loss poorly and now the entire internet suffers from the lack of what would have been a treasured self portrait.

There is no joy in Mudville.

Charlene valiantly helped our 10-year-old son Ben clean his room. Many a mess organized and tidied up.

Reporting on the chaos, she sounded startled to have found, “a whole shoebox full of baseball and Star Wars cards.” That’s right, my young son has a shoebox full of trading cards.

Oh my dear, that’s not a sign of chaos, that’s a sign that all is right in the world.

Kahn! Wrath of Khan stuffed doll buried well within the second layer of claw machine toys. Impossible, just like the Kobayashi Maru. Even a crisp $20 cannot release you. Kahn!

You should be so comfy

but something ain’t right

Oh, I know

Fear of bed bugs

and AC blasting at 34 Fahrenheit

All night