A warning to all who would buy LeapFrog products (as told by an email reply to customer service)

Thanks for responding. Unfortunately, the "remove device" function is located under the "general" tab and not the "advanced" tab as you stated. Also, once you remove the devices under settings the "OK" button does not highlight. That leaves me with only the option of clicking the "Cancel" button, which surely contributes to the perseverance of my four Tag Junior profiles and two My Pal Violet profiles (again, we only own one of each of these toys).

I even deleted the app, deleted my child from the account via your website, and deleted the connected toys from there. I reloaded the LeapFrog Connect application after this, and lo and behold the six profiles were still there. Childless. Staring. Mocking. Of course I tried all of this before contacting you, because I'm not computer illiterate as those who work for LeapFrog must be. It's a tough economy. I guess everyone's slacker nephew needs a job, even if it means making the jump from pizza delivery boy to software programmer in the same week. So now my question is twofold: "Should I sell these toys on Craigslist or Ebay?" and "How do I delete my parent account permanently?"

I guess I have a third question, too. Do you have the number to VTech? My kid has a few of their toys, and she has learned quite a bit from them. The only thing LeapFrog toys have taught her are the colorful expletives daddy uses when using your horrendous software.

I know this isn't your fault, Arjay F., but please pass my sincerest "f#%k you very much" to your superiors as high as it'll go. Those are the people I blame for the train wreck they call LeapFrog Connect. Everyone wants to adopt the Apple model of controlling every aspect of their customers' experience when using their products, but the product has to be intuitive and functional for everyone using them if this strategy is going to work. The toys are made FOR children, but it doesn't mean the software should be designed BY children.

Now if you'll just let me know how to delete my parent account so I can mentally sever myself from this experience, I'll show myself the door.

She's gonna build a toyland town

Testing out this year's gift options.

Put one foot in front of the other

So my first attempt fell on its head, but I think we got it this time.

For the pleasure that you bring when you make that doorbell ring, no trip could be too far

My Mrs. and the little elf are getting together all of the presents for the good little boys and girls in Louisiana, except the youngest. He's getting coal. And not even charcoal from which he could benefit by using it to barbecue. No. Coal. Train fuel. The pearl of West Virginia.

Meanwhile, I am getting the sleigh greased up and dressed down in order to haul all this merriment down there tonight. The first nearly-a-week-off all year - minus the stories I am writing Friday down in Alex.

Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow

I'm just trying to be a better version of me for you

So I rushed from the banquet held in honor of my daughter (and other less important babies) at our church in advance of tomorrow's dedication service to catch the last two periods of the hockey game. We secured the top spot in the league last night, so I wanted to bask in the glory of our apex status against the same team we beat to secure No. 1.

I felt a little guilty as I slightly jogged from the banquet room. The festivities had ended just as the game started, so I didn't bail on my family per se. The jingle of the keys to my sister-in-law's car overpowered the fading voices of my wife, baby, sisters-in-law and stepmother. They would pile into our Toyota to get home. My brothers and dad awaited my arrival at the arena. Still, something did not feel right about this decision.

I slammed on the accelerator and cranked the radio broadcast of the game. By the time I hit the interstate - approximately six minutes into the first period - the opposing team jumped ahead by two goals. We came within one by the end, but never overcame the deficit, cementing my suspicions that I made the wrong decision. There goes the seven-game winning streak - a much more impressive feat in hockey than in football - we expected. My bad, fellas. Brought the bad karma, but I still had a blast with the boys. Sometimes the wrong decision can be fun, but it doesn't always carry over when you think back on it.

Hockey fans aren't like other fans

Yes, Lily Belle. We are all stunned by the ref's call. And, no. That is not Brian Regan's dad sitting behind us. I already asked.

Never grow up

Do I have anything in my teeth? Want to look good for my six-month birthday pictures. Oh. Right. I don't have any teeth.

We're off to neverneverland

She smiled in a big way. The way a girl like that smiles.

No concerns right now about Lily Belle being autistic because she engages well with other people, her doctor said at her regular check-up.

Too well, I'd say. She was acting a bit familiar with this chimp-faced little boy in front of us at the baseball game. Where does that come from, being a flirt? I wish she was autistic.

Nowhere is safe

I just helped my wife wipe crap off of our kid all the way up to her neck on a changing pad in the front seat of our seat parked outside of a Quizno's in 110 degree weather. And that's my Saturday.

This is the day you were born, and I am always yours

Talking about tattoos today made me realize that I have no concept of the depth of permanency. Not a great trait for a parent I suppose.

Time is ticking away, tick-tick-ticking away

Sobering thought of the day: reliving the memory of the excitement of the release of your favorite album of 1992, and then realizing your new baby girl will relate to this album the way you've always identified with the beatles' "rubber soul" in regards to how long ago it debuted. Ouch.

Boys speak in rhythm. Girls just lie.

This does not bode well. It appears that Lily is going to be a movie-talker, which goes against our religion. She would not stop talking to the TV last night. Heathen.

Baby blues

So no guarantee this will work with all kids, but I figured out a way to keep mine civil even once it's past the time she usually eats. They call it a blues festival. It's a Saturday night street show in a small town. And it was fun.

And it confirms our theory that she loves music. So I guess she actually is mine.

My best side was your worst invention

It's called the "Why-I-Oughta" pose. Pretty much a baby photography staple among professionals.

Two months and she already has my anger issues. Too much hockey too soon, but that's what she gets for being born during playoff season.