Welcome! This is Pi Day is an independent web comic about fatherhood, running, video games, science, art, independence, integrity, imagination and just generally … family adventure. It is drawn and published from Edmonton, Canada.
The life of a dad is full of stories, and we’ve been banking geeky dad experiences for a decade. The result: a web comic… This is Pi Day is a little bit serious, a little bit autobiographical, and a little bit blueberry pastry stains on the front of your shirt. All of it is built upon a foundation of math, science and technology pop culture … and of course an irrational number of terribly punny dad jokes.
One of the challenges of writing these comics is that often I’ll stumble across one of those father-daughter situations that is cringe-worthy, eye-roll-inducing, and the exact kinda moment when you want to follow it up with a lecture. Case-in-point: we were watching TV, and (a) she got a little frustrated that I wasn’t flipping as efficiently as she would have liked through the adverts and (b) when I did start flipping she abruptly decided that she wanted to see one of those adverts.
Adverts are funny I guess.
She didn’t grow up forced to watch every single one, I guess.
She has a magic wand with numbered buttons that allows her to freeze and reverse time at her whim, I guess.
Life don’t work that way for everything, kid. Remember that.
Major strips are scheduled for Saturday mornings. Minor strips show up whenever I have time to make a new one.
Check back often or sign up for one of my social feeds to have comics directly in your favorite app!
Whoever said “It’s not whether you win or lose” probably didn’t win…
…but I think what we learned after a packed schedule of driving from here to there to somewhere else and back over there again, always dressed in elaborate costumes a meticulously styled hair and makeup –particularly for a ten-year-old– what we learned in that was that sometimes the things we do impress certain people are never going to be enough. Sometimes the people who need to be impressed are never going to be fans. Sometimes it might not even be about impressing anybody but yourself and the people in the audience cheering just for you. And sometimes you’re obviously in the wrong category and competing against people with so much more skill than you that you can’t help but feel a little inadequate so you may as well suck it up and just have fun.
I think, like when we get handed those nifty participation medals for completing a running race, in dancing all you really need is to understand is that second … third… even last place… is still ahead of all the other people who didn’t even try.
Is that too sappy for a Saturday morning comic strip? (I am still a dad over here, after all!)
Ultimately, dance dad duty results in a simple act: sitting helplessly in the audience while a stranger passes judgement upon your child and a year worth of your evenings spent driving through snow storms and commuter traffic to deliver her to weekly dance classes.
Like anything, life ain’t always fair. But tell that to a kid who woke up early to spend two hours doing her hair and make-up.
I kid. I joke. Dance moms make the dance world go round…
…but I do feel a little out of my element when I wander casually around any dance competition venue, hands in my pocket, thumbing my phone, maybe snapping some photos here and there. Meanwhile, other parents are lugging suitcases full of costumes and make-up in procession behind a hair-do’d up young lady in some elaborate costume, narrow, focussed eyes sizing up the room for any sign of weakness.
But we’re not going to retire on a ballet scholarship anytime soon, so I say just let the kid have fun…
I can’t say that I’m a great dance dad, but I’m learning.
We’ve just pushed through yet another dance competition season and we have the scars to show for it. Thankfully, we mostly tour on the local competition circuit so it means travel is limited to day trips. Yet that still means early morning hair-doing sessions (not my specialty) and lugging costumes carefully laid out in the back of the car so that they don’t wrinkle, and … of course … the anticipatory therapy sessions that go along with any kind of public performance.
You’d think after spending a year as a cartoon character, getting up on a stage in a tutu wouldn’t bother her that much.