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Entries in parenting (130)


Parents Form Group to Make New K-5 School as Hot as P.S. 321

There’s a new school in town, and parents are gearing up for it to be P.S. 321, part deaux. After the Department of Education's recent school rezoning proposal passed, some Park Slope homeowners and renters who purposely bought or found places in P.S. 321’s district were pretty pissed. No longer would their beloved offspring be eligible for the coveted K-5 school. They'll now be sent to a yet-to-be-named school in the St. Thomas Aquinas building on 8th Ave and 4th Street.

But alas, Park Slope parents do not fuck around.

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Breeder Hall of Shame: Not-So-Smiling Pizza

Image Via Urban Baby Blog

Recently a FIPS tipster slash baller was exiting her go-to Park Slope pizza joint when some shit went down between her and a breeder dad over his parenting skills and her accidental bumping of a door against his child. It ended with a call to the police. 

Here's her account: 

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The Park Slope Birdlar vs. The Park Slope Mini Detective

Photo by Brian Bruchman and the Brooklyn Paper

I’m not sure that crime can get any cuter than this, people.

We’ve got our very-own pint-sized sleuth in Park Slope these days, and she wants her heron back. Yes, a Park Slope family’s yard sculpture of a heron was stolen earlier this month and Luna, their 7-year old daughter, is on the case. 

According to the Brooklyn Paper, mother Amy Yang returned to their Park Slope home accompanied by her kids, Luna and Mars, to find the one-of-a-kind lawn ornament gone missing; the only clue a sandy trail where it had been dragged off the property.  So naturally (if you have awesome parents), Amy and her kids decided to make up signs for the “Birdlar," requesting the safe return of the heron to their yard, and Luna launched an investigation (read: bad-ass child alert).

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Who Gives a Shit: How Do You tell Park Slope Parents that their kids and Their Scooters Are a Menace to Society?


After a recent incident involving some negligent parents and their maniacal scooter-racing child, a Park Slope newbie wrote to us asking for a polite way to tell these parents: Hey, fuckface. Your kid is plowing through the crowd like an asshole on his shitty little scooter. Wanna do something about it or what?!

  Here’s an excerpt from her email:

My roommate and I were walking along 5th ave on a busy Saturday, and we both had a little mishap with a kid on a scooter. First he scooted in front of me and then stopped, causing me to basically fall over him as my roommate almost ran into me. His parents, who were walking in front of us, didn't even notice. So we power-walked to get ahead of the group, but as we got to through the next intersection the scooter kid powered ahead and ran over my roommate's foot. The kid didn't react or apologize and the parents didn't seem to notice. Is there a good way to tell the parents of Park Slope to maybe watch your kids (especially those on the scooter who might be a little out of control), without causing a scene or argument?

But of course! This inconvenience by a breeder and their tyrannical spawn means that you have officially been initiated to the hood. Welcome to Park Slope!  

Now, despite the fact that this is a common occurrence and shouldn’t be a surprise (see: Have you ever almost been killed by a kid on a scooter?), after reading this message I can’t help but fill to the brim with furious rage at the level of inconsideration prevalent in our little society. That being said, today’s your lucky day, Park Slope newbie with a problem, as you’ve come to the perfect place for advice on this matter.

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What's Worse: Putting a 7 year-old on a diet or writing about it?

Via Vogue

NYC mom Dara-Lynn Weiss had issues with her daughter Bea’s weight. She put the 7 year-old on a diet, then wrote about it for Vogue. The article included awkward mother-daughter photos, like the one you see above. Here's a snippet from the interview:

Sometimes Bea's after-school snack was a slice of pizza or a gyro from the snack vendor. Other days I forced her to choose a low fat vegetable soup or a single hard-boiled egg. Occasionally I'd give in to her pleas for a square of coffee cake, mainly because I wanted to eat half of it. When she was given access to cupcakes at a party, I alternated between saying, "Let's not eat that, it's not good for you"; "Okay, fine, go ahead, but just one"; "and "Bea, you have to stop eating crap like that, you're getting too heavy," depending on my mood. Then I'd secretly eat two when she wasn't looking.

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