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For a little over 10 years, I have been commenting on my wife, Ann Marie Franco, and our four children -- as well as my mom, dad and siblings -- in the pages of your Altoona Mirror.
It seems they did a lot of goofy things that compelled me to reiterate to you and how it drove me crazy. But believe it or not, I, too, am not a perfect person and may have occasionally driven my brood bonkers, too.
That's right, I may actually do a thing or two that causes much grief, and I thought this might be the perfect time to tell you about some of the things I do that may not be everyone's cup of tea.
Of course, I had to come up with a list so I thought about three things that I do that sends my family into a tizzy.
There were more, but my boss, Neil Rudel, was afraid the obituary page might be big this morning so because of space constraints, we're keeping it to three.
There are things I ask my kids to do, and if they don't do them my way, I go crazy.
For instance, when our two dogs, Daisy and Huckleberry, are let out for a bathroom break, I want their feet wiped off when they come back in the house.
I leave a big rug in front of the door. Hint No. 2, there are two big towels left there to wipe off their feet. I do it, and I know Ann Marie does it, but I get the feeling the kids only do it when I'm home.
If it is just kids and dogs and no one else, it's come-in boys and let the carpet in the living room be your towel. You can't hide muddy footprints that appear in sets of fours.
I know my boys are animals, but they only leave two prints at a time.
And have you ever seen the TV comedy "The Goldbergs?"
The dad in the show, played by Jeff Garlin, likes to take off his pants when he gets home from work and go right to his favorite chair. He just sits there with his tighty-whiteys, shirt and socks on -- and nothing else.
Now, I'm not that bad, but I do go around the house with sweatpants and socks on, and no shirt. It's how I rule.
But now -- all of a sudden -- it scares my kids. When they were little, it was fine.
"Hey look, my daddy is a big teddy bear!" And now it's "Hey look, mom married Big Foot and he's pretending to be my dad!"
Now, they are inviting more and more friends over these days, and I am constantly being put into an uncomfortable position by my wife, who keeps asking me to put on a shirt for company. Why?
Are my kids ashamed that their father just happens to be a full-blooded Italian guy who enjoys the feeling furniture has against his skin?
It's not fair.
There's one other thing that I do that --- if they just listened to me -- would not bother them.
What do you do when you get a drink out of the fridge? I am sure most people get their drink, and then put the glass either in the sink or in the dishwasher.
My kids just keep stockpiling glass after glass after glass near the fridge. It looks like the counter top at Cheers on St. Patrick's Day.
So you know what I do? I just put the glass in the dishwasher every time they leave one there, until we are down to the point where they are using coffee mugs or paper cups because there are no more glasses left because all 100 of them are in the dishwasher.
I swear, one of these days I will find one of them cupping their hands while the other pours juice into it like they're drinking water out of the Nile in one of those old bible movies.
OK, what did we learn from this column this morning?
We learned that if we had no dogs in our house, no friends coming over and less salt in my cooking, Dad would be a lot easier for his family to digest.
Scott Franco writes a monthly column for the Mirror.