1. What’s the best part about being a stay-at-home dad?
(a) My blog. Once that thing goes viral, it’s Book Deal City for this guy.
(b) Not working in an office. I hated the meetings, objectives, birthdays, e-mails, restrictive clothing, banter, and extramarital affairs.
(c) I’m part of a revolution that the liberal media reports on almost daily, so it must be important.
(d) Watching my child learn all the ways to manipulate me.
2. What’s the worst part?
(a) If my blog doesn’t take off, the Fame Train will leave me at Dad Station.
(b) Neighborhood moms stare with a combination of sorrow and wonder, as if I am some crippled unicorn.
(c) Later on in life, my child will still find me emotionally distant.
(d) Two words: Music Together.
3. In the middle of Music Together, your little one has a meltdown, due to intense clanging. As you provide comfort, an admiring mother says, “My husband could never do what you do.” How would you respond?
(a) “I could never do what he does … hence,” and gesture to your screaming kid.
(b) Nurse your child with the milk every man is rumored to have, whispering, “If I can do it, anyone can.”
(c) “Interesting. What else can’t he do?”
(d) “Between the maracas, wailing, and that godforsaken ‘Don Alfredo’ song, I didn’t hear a thing you just said.”
4. After Puppetopia: Enchanted Land of Learning, you see a group of moms heading off for lunch. What would you say to enter into their circle?
(a) “I am initiating contact. Who is your Alpha?”
(b) “I promise not to stare at your yoga pants. Or cleavage. Or child. I’m just a normal, un-creepy guy.”
(c) “Can Poppa get num num, too?”
(d) “Ladies, you are beautiful. And in such conflicting ways. Your hair is lustrous yet thinning. Your skin glows through the acne. Do your husbands ever tell you how beguiling you are? Talbots models, all of you!”
5. Describe your parenting style.
(a) Physical.
(b) Sensitive.
(c) Depressing.
(d) Profane.
6. How many cardigans do you own?
(a) None, they’re for wussies.
(b) One to three.
(c) Three to ten.
(d) Ten or more. So comfy, so stylin’.
7. What was your previous job?
(a) Making things no one asked for.
(b) Making money disappear.
(c) I’ve blocked that out.
(d) Journalist, travel agent, autoworker, book publisher, or some other dying art.
8. When people ask what you do, what’s your typical reply?
(a) “I’m a stay-at-home dad. You may have heard about me on NPR.”
(b) “I’m the chief operating officer of a vast kin system.”
(c) “I’m kinda in between jobs right now. Do you know of anything? I’m a fast thinker and good with my hands.”
(d) “I’m a [cough] freelance writer.”
9. What is the most powerful lesson you’ve learned thus far?
(a) Being a stay-at-home dad is not that difficult. In fact, I can do it drunk.
(b) Witnessing my child grow is as exciting as watching DNA dry.
(c) Two scenarios arouse my partner: when I come home from the gym or just after a haircut, neither of which have happened in months.
(d) My kid said “Dada” first, rushes past Mom into my embrace when hurt or frightened, and, in general, loves me more. I wish this felt like a win in my whole spousal power struggle.
10. What has been your most emasculating moment?
(a) Using the changing table in the ladies’ bathroom, seeing the things they see. For example, why is there sometimes an extra chair? For a friend? I don’t get it.
(b) After a piece of candy dropped on the ground and became covered with ants, I thought, Those ants are hard at work. Am I, technically?
(c) At Naked Time, when my kid and I dance to “Everyday Is a Winding Road.”
(d) During a Chernobyl-level meltdown, when everyone in Walgreens rushed to my aid and kept asking, “Where’s Mom?”
If you finished this quiz, it means one of two things: you are either a negligent stay-at-home dad, because, seriously, how did you find the time, or a committed one, due to your thoroughness. Final judgment of your character rests on the delicate shoulders of your offspring. Good luck.
Photograph by Peter Dazeley/Getty.
