This piece hit home; I run the group blog DadCentric, and lately I've been wondering when - not if - I should stop telling the world about my kid. (Pauses to let the "anti-breeders" spew their vitriol.) This actually has more to do with my general parentblog fatigue than anything else; this may be biting the hands of my readers and fellow parentbloggers, but there comes a point when reading and writing about your toddler's adventures in asswiping/food throwing/creative use of new curse words that mom/dad/playground buddies have taught him gets, well, old.

To me, the kid's the least interesting part of any parenting tale. And I speak as one who has two of 'em; my four year old, who I love to death, is probably very, very similar to your four year old son. What's interesting to me, and something that separates great parenting writers from the herd, is the parent - the changes that occur and the stuggles that we face when we're suddenly, utterly responsible for another human life.