HOLIDAY ON ICE (PACKS!)

My brand new neighbor is about to become a brand new parent, and asked ME what to expect. So I told him.
Being a parent is quite cool. At first you're in awe of the miracle of birth. Then you take the little tyke home and the fun begins. Mom's going to be understandably incapacitated for a while, so being a liberated male, you take care of most of the newborn’s needs (I drew the line at breast feeding).
Being new to this, ten minutes after the new addition is home, while you're wife is resting, you call the hospital to tell them that you have a defective baby! You'd like a replacement! This one leaks!....and it keeps throwing up on you!
Before long you start becoming a champ at playing with and bathing the new kid on the block, not to mention changing it's diapers. This last part has accomplished something that your mother couldn't. You are cleaning your nails and washing your hands on a regular basis! Boy, it just doesn't get any more paternal than this, does it? Oh great, it just spit up on my new shirt!
You manage to get through the "Honey it's crawling, it's pulling things off the table, I think it's trying to stand” stage. This is when that ignored advice, about child-proofing your house, that other people have been warning you about, kicks in! You begin at warp speed to barricade rooms, raise things to above shoulder height, and remove all breakable items from the coffee table. But not before you find your little dependant sitting on the floor, covered in chocolate, with your wife's favorite crystal candy dish broken under the table (not to mention the yodel juice all over my new NIKES!).
The next stage is "THE TERRIBLE TWO'S" through Pre-K! This is the time that any Dad worth his weight will do anything to entertain his kid and the friends, who are sitting on the grass while you become part of the birthday entertainment. You're jumping up and down, making weird noises, talking like GOOFY and DONALD DUCK, and acting like a real jerk. Meanwhile, the other kids are telling yours that they think dad should cut down on his coffee intake. "He just keeps jumping up and down, making weird noises, thinks he's a Disney character and keeps acting like a real jerk. He's like, scaring us, okay?"
Pretty soon you're kid gets involved in sports, so you're throwing the ball around with your kid, goal tending (which means you're being barraged with hockey pucks and soccer balls), or shooting baskets and going a little one-on-one with that new basketball hoop. (Forget that you had to call the fire department to get you off the garage roof when you were installing it.) You spend your afternoons playing with your kid and evenings soaking in a tub of Mineral Ice and Ben Gay! You went from being an athletic jock in your youth to being a test dummy for the local TRAUMA Center!
Still wanting to be a hero to your kid, you figure that you may be too sore to play, but you're not too sore to coach. So you take over coaching the baseball team. It doesn't take long before you have absolutely no friends left in the community. Not only are your kid’s teammates not talking to you, but neither are their parents!
You survive class trips to zoos, museums, circuses, hikes that come complete with mosquito bites and poison sumac, amusement park rollercoaster rides (where it's pay-back time and now you spit-up on your kid), and the ever popular "HOLIDAY ON ICE!" show. Here your kid looks up at you with those baby blues and says, "Dad, will you teach me how to ice skate?" "Oh sure, I'll teach you. I haven't even come close to my threshold of pain. In fact, why not have our own show? We can call it "HOLIDAY ON ICE-PACKS!”