Projo Offbeat Blog

Dear Tom,

You haven't responded to my messages inviting you, baby John, Bridget and/or Giselle over for dinner, so I'm trying to reach you via this blog, which has the unrealized potential to reach you and millions of other people across the world.

Congratulations on your new son. Now it's time to buckle up your chin strap and get to work. You thought Bill Belichick was demanding? He's nothing compared to a hungry 15-month-old. And you thought the Pittsburgh Steelers defense was relentless? They're nothing compared to a 4-year-old who wants to ride his bike in a rain storm.

But don't worry. I'm here to help with some father-to-father advice. Think of me as an online version of Charlie Weis.

Here are three major game-plan points to help you avoid the pitfalls that have knocked me and countless other fathers for a loss:

Don't try to live vicariously through your son: Many of us fathers see our sons as a shot at redemption, a chance to address our own shortcomings and settle past slights. Don't put that kind of pressure on your kid. If you didn't make the Little League All-Stars or some other all-star team as a kid, it probably wasn't the result of a conspiracy. Try to forget about it -- everyone else has -- or before you know it, you'll find yourself screaming at an umpire or coach and getting hauled away from a kids' game in handcuffs.

Don't try to keep up with the Joneses: A child's appetite for materialistic things is limitless and increases over time. Feed it, and you'll both end in a black hole. There's always going to be some kid on the block with a fancier video game player, or some dad with a cooler car. You're better off putting the money in an education fund. I can't imagine what college will cost by the time John -- or its it Jonathan? -- is ready for school. You might have to play as long as Vinny Testaverde to pay for it.

Parenting is a partnership: When young Jonathan wakes up in the middle of the night, take your turn with the bottle, the crackers, anything to get him back to sleep. I'm sure your bosses and fans will understand. There must be some federal law by now -- or if not, there should be -- allowing sleep-deprived fathers to dose at their desk, even if their desk stretches 100 yards across Gillette Stadium.

Wait a minute. What am I saying? We won't understand. Sorry. I was up in the middle of the night with my youngest son last night, and I'm underperforming a bit at work. Tom, you've got to make somebody else get up with the baby. Hire a nanny, even if it means you have to skimp on that college savings plan.

All the best, Jack Perry

(P.S. Baby John can call me 'uncle' if he'd like.)

(P.P.S. Do 'uncles' ever get tickets?)

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