Mr. Mom, aka the Cluemaster.

Dear friends,

We spent Thursday night at Buffalo Wild Wings, Kate’s favorite restaurant. It is affectionately known as B-Dubs by my children. (For those of you as lost as Mr. Mom, Dub is short for W. Buffalo Wild Wings = BWW = B-Dubs.)

At Kate’s request, we have been planning this birthday outing for a couple of weeks. Only every time Mr. Mom talked about it, he called it BFFs.

If you’re anyone reading this post beside Mr. Mom, you know BFF stands for Best Friend Forever.  Not the same thing (except in Kate’s case, it might actually be fair to say B-Dubs is her BFF).

Anyway, it has become increasingly clear Mr. Mom cannot keep up with the rest of the family. We learned during after-dinner conversation he does not know what a hashtag is. #clueless

He doesn’t Tweet, either, which explains his hashtag problem. And it’s too bad, really, because K8 gave him a S/O today on Twitter for being an especially considerate father and he didn’t even realize it.

We try to talk slow around him and refrain from rolling our eyes, but it’s getting increasingly difficult. #pullovergramps

I feel bad poking fun at him in this way since he does so many things well, like fix our cars #acemechanic and clean our clothes #laundryslave. But there are so few things in life for which I can claim superiority over him that I simply must leverage his appalling lack of new media awareness.

With gratitude {for friends who keep me in the know and, therefore, one step ahead of the old man},

Joan, who served a short stint as a radio announcer in college and learned to properly enunciate W (double-U, not dub-yuh) and, therefore, cringed during the entire second Bush administration