The Circus is Always One Peanut Away From Disaster

It wasn't until I became a dad that I realized how little control I had.

Grown-ups have all the fun. They can eat anything they want, stay up late, and watch TV all day. The limitless freedom of adulthood, I always thought as a kid, would be never-ending. Pizza parties and Super Mario Bros. 3 on Nintendo, morning to night. No one to answer to and all my way, all the time.

Guess what happened to this 41-year-old somewhat-grown-up-dad last week? My very-new-to-earth two-year-old stuffed a Styrofoam ball the size of a pea in her left ear, good for a few freakouts and a trip to the ER, writing off the afternoon for both Mom and Dad, while adding the very blatant reminder: Parents may be the ringmasters, but the circus is only a peanut-shaped snag away from disaster.

My wife and I had crisscrossed paths during lunch on a weekday afternoon, fitting in a few minutes to check in on our precocious youngest girl before nap time at the house. About to scuttle off in our respective directions, my daughter stood up from her crafts on the floor with a look of concern.

After an excessively long back-and-forth trying to interpret her toddler-ese, I asked if she put anything in her ear. “Yeah. Ball,” she replied casually, as if maybe this was something she had tried before. But you could see the gears turning because clearly this ball was not bouncing back. So you can probably guess what the next 13 minutes looked like: Mom with the iPhone flashlight, Dad with the tweezers, kid using every muscle in her body to run away, all three of us crying at some point.

With reason and fatigue creeping up, we set out to divide and conquer. My wife would take the Styrofoam ball (and the child now wrapped around it) to the emergency room, and I would manage our two other daughters’ agendas for the afternoon. And just like that—poof!—that’s how your day of productivity disappears. Magic wand not included.

As the legendary boxer and sage Mike Tyson once said, “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.” And that’s kind of like parenting. Every day. We’re talking kid gloves here, but you get the point.

We try to account for the maybes, the buts, the what-ifs. Google Calendars and app reminders. Hallway whiteboards and sticky notes. All for that illusion of control. But it wasn’t until I became a dad did I realized how little control I had. My own pops told me never to stick anything smaller than a football in my nose (or ear), but I see now the advice extended far beyond bodily curiosity.

So when school schedules turn to summer shenanigans, and back over again, parents are put to the test. It’s a tough ask, especially in a world where conflict and uncertainty seem to be boiling over everywhere you look as we all just try to string one good day after another.

But there’s a silver lining here. The love that we pour into our kids—especially in the toughest unplanned moments—comes back to us so many times over. It’s that note or hug or unforgettable look that makes it all worth it. For my wife and I, that sense of relief and appreciation as our daughter came home from the emergency room is exactly the reason why we do it every single day.

The grown-up I pictured as a kid certainly isn’t who I am today. I’m not nearly as fun, and my Nintendo died long ago. But I couldn’t imagine getting my ear pierced, singing songs from Moana at the top of my lungs, and making more friendship bracelets than I could count. Those spontaneous and unplanned moments, including a few trips to the ER, have become weirdly normal and a defining part of this uncool dad.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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This story was originally published in the May 2026 issue of Monterey Bay Parent.