If you’ve been Googling best propane fire pit for dads, backyard fire pit upgrade, or smokeless fire pit with tabletop, congratulations, you’ve just found your winner. The Solo Stove Infinity Flame Propane Fire Pit is the latest drop from the company that turned smokeless fires into a suburban status symbol. And this one? It’s built for dads who want real fire vibes without the wood, the smoke, or the constant babysitting.

What Makes the Infinity Flame a Dad-Approved Upgrade

Solo Stove finally merged everything dads love: clean flames, low maintenance, and gear that doesn’t look like it came from the discount aisle. The Infinity Flame gives you:

  • Propane convenience (instant fire, zero hassle)

  • Wood-fire feel without smelling like last night’s brisket

  • Integrated tabletop for drinks, s’mores, and kid chaos management

  • A seating radius for 5–8 people — aka your family, two neighbors, and that one buddy who always “drops by”

It’s equal parts lifestyle flex and dad sanctuary.

Why This Fire Pit Matters for Dads

Backyards are the new living rooms. The new man caves. The new everything. And upgrading your outdoor setup isn’t just an aesthetic move, it’s how you create the nightly reset ritual every dad secretly needs.

A propane fire pit that still looks and feels like a real flame means more impromptu hangouts, more family time, and more nights where you actually unwind instead of doom-scrolling on your phone.

Plus, no smoke means the kids won’t complain, your clothes won’t smell, and your partner won’t ask why you “reek like a campsite.”

Who This Is For

  • Dads who love the fire but hate the fuss

  • Weekend hosts

  • Patio upgrade seekers

  • Gear guys who want the latest, cleanest setup

  • Anyone searching terms like best smokeless propane fire pit, modern fire pit for patios, or Solo Stove Infinity Flame review

The Dad Gear Takeaway

The Infinity Flame is more than a fire pit — it’s a backyard power move. A cleaner, easier, better-looking way to bring people together. If you’re building your dad arsenal…the tools, toys, and gear that turn a house into a kingdom, this one deserves a top spot.

All flame. No hassle. Maximum dad energy.

Andersons Smoke Show walks you through a foolproof smoked-turkey process that turns average dads into backyard pit bosses. If you’ve ever wanted to pull off a Thanksgiving bird with crispy skin and juicy meat — this is the playbook.

Watch the Video

Video courtesy of Andersons Smoke Show

The Breakdown

This isn’t your grandma’s oven turkey. Andrew from Anderson Smoke Show treats the Thanksgiving bird like a science experiment — equal parts chemistry, craftsmanship, and pure smoky magic.

He shows you how to prep, brine, inject, and glaze your way to a turkey that’ll have your in-laws calling you “Chef” for the rest of the year.

The Big Idea

Forget wet brining. The secret is the dry brine. Salt draws out the moisture, then pulls it right back in, creating juicier meat and that golden, crispy skin every dad dreams of.

Then comes the flavor bomb: a butter-based injection spiked with herbs, spices, and brown sugar that supercharges the breast meat — the part that usually turns into sawdust at most family dinners.

Andrew smokes the turkey low and slow at 285°F on a Char-Griller Gravity 980, burning lump charcoal with hickory and applewood. Around the 4-hour mark, he hits it with a glaze made of honey, bourbon, and Cajun seasoning — sweet, spicy, and just a little boozy.

The result? A five-hour masterpiece with juicy meat, crispy skin, and bragging rights that last until Christmas.

The Process

1. Dry Brine Overnight
Coat the bird with a salt-based rub. Leave uncovered in the fridge overnight. This dries the skin and amps up flavor.

2. Inject Flavor
Mix melted butter, herbs, brown sugar, and Cajun spices. Inject it deep into the breast and thighs for next-level juiciness.

3. Tie & Prep
Truss the legs so the bird cooks evenly. Add a light dusting of rub before it hits the smoker.

4. Smoke at 285°F
Use lump charcoal with hickory and applewood chunks. Keep it steady. Patience pays.

5. Glaze at 155°F
Brush on the honey-bourbon-Cajun glaze once the breast temp hits 155°F. Cook until 165°F internal.

6. Rest, Carve, and Admire
Let the turkey rest before slicing. Soak in the applause.

The Sauce

Honey-Bourbon Glaze

  • ½ cup honey

  • ¼ cup bourbon

  • 1 tbsp Cajun seasoning
    Mix, brush gently on the bird near the end, and bask in that perfect amber color.

The Takeaway

A great smoked turkey isn’t just about feeding the family — it’s about mastering patience, precision, and the pursuit of flavor.

Andrew’s approach proves that technique beats tradition. Dry brine > wet brine. Injection > basting. Science > guesswork.

“If you can smoke a turkey, you can handle Thanksgiving — and probably life.”

Curated from: AWESOME Smoked Turkey Recipe For Beginners! by Andersons Smoke Show

Growing up, my dad had a handful of sayings he’d repeat to us before school, parties, or big events. Whether it was “read the damn problem” before a test, “proper planning prevents poor performance” before a speech or game, or “the hurrier I go, the behinder I get” when we rushed through something and made it worse — they were endless.

And, in my adolescence, admittedly annoying. But one that’s always stuck with me is: “Remember who you are, and where you came from.” That one usually came out before dates, going to a “friend’s house” (aka party) in high school, or leaving for college.

It was my dad’s simple reminder that our actions reflected not just on us, but on our family — and that first impressions are what reputations are built on.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to see that phrase differently. Whether it’s in a job search, finding a spouse, or becoming a dad, the best thing you can do is know who you are, be proud of that, and stick to your values. When something doesn’t sit right, have the courage to speak up — but also the humility to listen and respect a different perspective.

Now, as a new father, that saying hits even deeper. It makes me think about how I want my kids to remember me — how I make them feel. I want to be the kind of supportive dad mine was: someone they can come to with anything.

And while discipline has its place, love and understanding should always lead the way. For others, “remember who you are and where you came from” might mean something entirely different — maybe it’s a promise to never return to a painful place or mindset. And that’s just as meaningful.

In the end, that phrase can mean many things to many people — and that’s the beauty of it. But I do believe it’s one of the most important lessons we can pass down to the next generation.

What Is the Cooper Test?

Forget fancy gym gear and $200 smartwatches. The Cooper Test is as old-school as it gets:

Run for 12 minutes. See how far you get.

Developed in 1968 by Air Force physician Dr. Kenneth H. Cooper, this test measures your aerobic capacity (VO2 max) — basically, how efficiently your body uses oxygen during exercise. It has been used by the military, police academies, and pro athletes for decades because it is brutally simple and brutally honest. No hiding behind “I lift heavy” or “I walk a lot.”

Twelve minutes on the clock tells you everything you need to know about your endurance and your honesty with yourself.

Why Dads Should Care

Because your fitness is your family’s foundation.

The Cooper Test is not about abs or aesthetics. It is about function and longevity — two things every dad should care about.

  • Chasing your kids without gassing out

  • Hiking without huffing

  • Handling stress better because your heart’s stronger

It is a reality check that does not lie, does not care about your excuses, and does not require anything more than a watch and a stretch of road.

In other words, it is dad fitness in its purest form.

How to Do the Cooper Test

1. Find Your Track (or Route)
A standard 400m track is perfect, but any flat surface works. Mark your start and note each lap or distance marker.

2. Warm Up
Spend 5 to 10 minutes jogging lightly and doing mobility drills. Keep it dynamic, not static. Loosen up your joints and wake up your lungs.

3. Run for 12 Minutes
That is it. Push yourself but pace smart. The goal is not to sprint and die, but to sustain effort for all 12 minutes.

4. Record Your Distance
Use a GPS watch, a running app, or count laps. Write it down.

5. Compare Your Score

Age Excellent Good Average Below Avg Poor
30–39 >2700m 2400–2700m 2000–2399m 1600–1999m <1600m
40–49 >2500m 2100–2499m 1700–2099m 1500–1699m <1500m
50+ >2300m 1900–2299m 1600–1899m 1400–1599m <1400m

(Adapted from the original Cooper Institute standards.)

What It Tells You

The Cooper Test estimates your VO2 max, or your body’s oxygen efficiency.

Formula:
VO2 max ≈ (Distance in meters – 504.9) ÷ 44.73

A higher VO2 means a stronger heart, faster recovery, and more energy for life’s chaos.

Think of it as your fitness GPA — a single stat that reflects your engine’s horsepower.

How to Improve Your Score

  • Run More, Smarter
    Do two to three runs a week. Mix long slow runs with interval training like 6x400m at 85% effort.

  • Strength Plus Cardio
    Combine resistance training (deadlifts, squats, pushups) with conditioning (sprints, rowing). Dads need both horsepower and stamina.

  • Sleep and Nutrition
    VO2 does not care about your macros if you are running on 4 hours of sleep. Hydrate, eat clean, and rest hard.

  • Retest Every 8 Weeks
    Improvement is addictive. Seeing measurable progress keeps you honest and motivated.

The Bigger Lesson

Here’s the truth: most dads do not need another 90-day shred challenge. They need a standard. The Cooper Test gives you one. It’s not about being elite, it’s about being honest.

The point is not running 3,000 meters. It is knowing you could if you had to.

Dad Day Takeaway

Take 12 minutes. Find a track. See what you’re made of. Then go home, sweaty and proud because your kids just saw what “showing up” looks like.

I never set out to become an expert in health insurance. I just wanted to take care of my family and not feel like I was lighting money on fire every month. If you’re self-employed, you know the drill. Every year it’s the same dance: compare plans, fill out forms, get hit with a number that makes you say, “There’s no way that’s right.”

For years, I paid over a grand a month for coverage that somehow didn’t cover anything. I’d get bills that made no sense, sit on hold for hours, and still end up paying for stuff I thought was included.

It’s the one part of being a dad and a business owner that always made me feel helpless. No matter how hard I worked, this one system had me beat.

One afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing that dreaded math again. Premiums, deductibles, out-of-pocket limits, and whatever else they can think up to confuse you. I just thought, this is insane.

I’d rather take that money and buy peace of mind somewhere else.

That’s when I found CrowdHealth.

At first, I figured “community health” was just another gimmick. It sounded like one of those vague startup ideas that disappears in six months. But I started reading, watched a few interviews, talked to a couple of members, and it just made sense. It was simple, transparent, and cheaper.

So I joined.

Within a month, my costs dropped by about 40 percent. My family of four went from paying $1,000 to under $600. And if something major happens, my max out-of-pocket is $500.

That’s it. No fine print. No “actually, that’s not covered.”

I still remember talking to my wife after that first month and saying, “I think this might actually work.”

The biggest game changer has been the virtual care.

With two little kids, someone is always coughing, sneezing, or breaking out in a rash. Now, instead of packing everyone in the car for urgent care, I just open the app, hop on a call, and talk to a real doctor. Usually within minutes.

They take their time, ask real questions, and if we need a prescription, it’s handled right there. It’s easily the most dad-friendly system I’ve ever used.

(And just to be clear, if it’s an emergency, you go to the ER. No question. This just covers everything else that makes parenthood a constant game of “Is this serious or just Tuesday?”)

But what really sold me wasn’t the cost or convenience. It was the community.

A few months back, I got an email from CrowdHealth about a woman who lost her husband unexpectedly. Members could chip in to support her as she faced life grieving an unimaginable loss while taking care of two little boys. My wife and I sent a little bit through Venmo.

It wasn’t much, but it felt right.

When was the last time your insurance company asked you to help someone instead of sending you another bill? That moment made it feel less like a system and more like a circle. Real people helping each other out.

I don’t usually write stuff like this, but switching to CrowdHealth has been one of the best calls I’ve made. Not just for our budget, but for my sanity. It’s simple. It’s human. And it doesn’t make me feel like I’m getting hustled every month.

I used to think traditional insurance was the responsible thing to do. Now I think being responsible means finding something that actually works.

So yeah, I’m not going back.

“Peace of mind shouldn’t cost more than your mortgage.”

Being a dad means protecting your family. Sometimes that means finding a smarter way to do it, even if it means walking away from the system everyone else says you need.

Editor’s Note:
Yep, we use CrowdHealth ourselves here at Dad Day. It’s been a game-changer for our own families, which is why we’re comfortable sharing this story.

If you want to give it a try, you can use our code DADDAY for a 3 month discount on your membership.

I’m assuming most of the dad’s out there had a pretty similar experience to learning as I did growing up. From elementary school to high school and any schooling thereafter, they all had a certain rhythm—the teacher or professor gives a lesson, you take notes (or, like me, you don’t), maybe you ask a question or two (or, like me, you don’t), then there’s a quiz to check progress, and finally The Big Test to see what you’ve learned. 

It’s predictable—you study, you prepare, and you take the test. In theory, you know what’s coming (or, like me, you don’t do any of these and simply hope your guessing game is on point on test day). 

But fatherhood? Oh man, fatherhood completely rewrites that playbook. 

  • In school, you learn the lesson, then take the test. 
  • In parenting, you get tested and then learn the lesson. 

There’s no syllabus for this parenting thing. No heads-up before a pop quiz. No cramming for The Big Test. 

In school, there’s consistency. Two plus two equals four, every time. The War of 1812 happened in 1812 every time (right?). 

But parenting? Every child and situation is slightly unique and hardly anything is consistent. It’s almost impossible to prepare or know what’s coming and when. 

Rarely, if ever, are two similar situations even remotely the same when you’re dealing with kids’ personalities, temperament, age, etc. When it’s time to take a bath, one kid may throw a temper tantrum while another may happily sprint to the bath to play in the water. That could all be completely different the next day. 

There’s no consistency. 

One day you’re coasting, thinking you’ve finally figured out this whole dad thing and the next, your toddler is having a meltdown in Target because you picked the wrong color of sippy cup. 

Test administered. Lesson pending. 

There’s No Study Guide for Fatherhood

Fatherhood is a lifelong series of pop quizzes and surprise tests. You don’t know when they’re coming or what subject they’ll be covering. Some are small—like realizing too late that nap time is sacred and should never, ever be disturbed. Others are bigger—like figuring out how to stay calm when your child says something hurtful or when your teenager makes a mistake that genuinely scares you. 

These tests don’t come with a study guide. You can’t tell your toddler mid-tantrum to hold still for a second while you review the lesson plan for Tantrums In Target. And, unlike school, there’s no clear right or wrong answer. Sometimes you get it right by instinct, and sometimes you don’t. 

So, as you’re standing in the middle of Target and after the tantrum finally gets to be too much, you lose your patience and say something you shouldn’t have, and you inevitably feel the sting of guilt afterwards. 

Test failed. 

Or, you get tested in a different way, one that on the surface seems like an easy A—your child is having a problem and you fix it. I mean, you’re Dad, right? You’re the parent who tries to fix every problem for your kids. That’s great until you realize later on that in order for them to succeed, they need to stumble a bit on their own. Although you had good intentions and a soft heart, you ended up taking the accomplishment away from them. 

Another test failed. 

(I’ll be the first to admit that this test is difficult for me to pass.) 

In both cases, unlike school, the lesson is learned after the test. 

You can’t mentally prepare for every situation because rarely will it happen how or when you thought it would. You just experience them as they happen, mess up, and grow from them. 

Failing The Test Is Okay 

Not all failure is equal. 

In school, failure feels like a fixed trait. You bombed the test, your grade drops, your confidence takes a hit, and you live the rest of your days believing that History just isn’t your subject (or mine, in this case) and never will be. But in fatherhood, failure doesn’t feel so final. If used properly, it feels more like growth. It’s like you already know failure is part of the deal; it’s part of the curriculum. You’re expecting it but just hoping you don’t fall on your face too hard. 

You fail, you reflect, you repair, and that is the learning. 

You learn patience by losing it. You learn empathy by forgetting to show it. You learn the power of words by saying the wrong ones.

The test comes first. Then the lesson. 

Who Needs a Study Guide Anyway? 

As I’ve been on this dad journey for nearly two years now, I’m slowly realizing that this backward way of learning may actually be better. School prepared me to get the right answer. Fatherhood is teaching me to keep trying even when I don’t have it. 

So, if you’re feeling like you’re constantly being tested and don’t have the right answers and are failing the tests—it’s okay. With each failure, you’re learning how to pass the next time. 

And remember, we’re all learning as we go. Nobody has this dad thing figured out beforehand. 

Oh, and don’t forget to suck up to the teacher (read: your spouse). If you do it right, it can help improve your grades (read: your life).

Professional CrossFit athlete Noah Ohlsen is used to heavy lifts, but fatherhood might be his biggest challenge yet. The Miami-based fitness icon opens up about his newborn son, the emotional rollercoaster of early parenting, and why staying grounded and smiling matters more than ever.

From CrossFit Podiums to Pampers

Most people know Noah Ohlsen as a CrossFit Games powerhouse, the Miami kid with the golden retriever, the megawatt smile, and the engine that never quits.

These days, his mornings start less with barbells and more with bottles. At just three months into fatherhood, Noah is learning the art of balance: supporting his wife after a tough delivery, finding rhythms as a new dad, and keeping the whole house smiling in the process.

“My heart swells with love thinking about all of the best parts of Oliver,” he says. “He’s an incredibly happy boy, smiling most of the time that he’s awake!”

The Hard Part

Like any new parent, Noah has faced his share of curveballs. Their delivery was not easy. A week-long NICU stay tested everyone’s nerves. Since then, he has been the calm anchor at home, helping his wife navigate the post-birth anxiety that many couples quietly battle.

“The hardest part,” he says, “has been seeing her struggle and trying to support her, reminding her that he’s perfectly healthy now, while still doing all the right things to keep it that way.”

That mix of empathy, patience, and quiet strength is the kind of fitness that does not show up on leaderboards.

The Good Stuff

For every tough moment, there are a thousand small joys. Noah lights up talking about his son, Oliver. The smiles, the chatter, the laughter that fills their mornings. “Seeing him and my wife laugh with each other melts my heart,” he says.

And while new parent life can be a blur of bottles, burps, and naps, the Ohlsens are already finding their rhythm: early mornings, family walks with their dog Max, and lots of tummy time before Noah sneaks in a quick gym session.

Lessons From the Trenches

What he wishes he knew before becoming a dad:

“Two bads and a good: how much your upper back burns when you’re rocking a baby to sleep for 10+ minutes, how little free time you have for simple things like reading a book, and how big you can love something so little right away.”

The best advice he’s gotten:

“Spend as much time with your baby and their mama early on as you can.”

Every story Noah tells circles back to being present, a quality that is as rare in high-performance sports as it is in modern fatherhood.

Balancing the Chaos

When life piles on, training, travel, business, and baby duty, Noah’s strategy is simple: breathe, stay calm, and lead with steadiness.

“Everything always works out,” he says. “I try to be the steady and confident leader in the house that everyone can count on.”

He is also mastering the underrated art of scheduling, making sure work, workouts, and family time do not compete but coexist. “And I always try to connect lovingly with my wife,” he adds. “Bonus if Oliver and Max are part of the embrace.”

Staying Grounded

For Noah, training is not just a career. It is therapy.
“Getting in a workout keeps me mentally and physically healthy,” he says. “But disconnecting from my phone and spending real, quality time with mama and baby, that’s the reset I need most.”

That balance between effort and ease, hustle and heart, defines this next chapter.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Noah Ohlsen (@nohlsen)

Non-Negotiables

Being a fun and happy dad. That is his line in the sand.

“I want to make sure I’m smiling as often as I can,” he says. “If that’s in his nature too, I’ll know I did something right.”

Off-Duty Dad Mode

When he is not training or changing diapers, Noah’s simple pleasures still look like movement and movies. “Workout again, lol,” he jokes. “And going to the cinema. I miss that a good bit.”

Follow his journey on Instagram and YouTube @nohlsen.

The Takeaway

Fatherhood hits every muscle, the heart most of all.
Noah Ohlsen proves that being a strong dad is not just about lifting weight. It is about carrying the people you love with patience, joy, and a grin that says, we got this.

I can’t believe I’m even writing this. Seven years ago, I was holding a newborn and wondering how anyone does this whole “dad” thing. Now, my wife and I are getting ready for our third. It goes fast.

Everyone tells you that, but you never really believe it until you look up and realize your baby is riding a bike, correcting your grammar, or asking questions that make you pause before answering.

Seven years in, here’s what I know for sure.

1. It Goes Way Too Fast

You blink and they’ve changed. The nights feel long, but the years? They vanish. I still remember thinking I’d never sleep again, that my life was permanently on pause.

But now my seven-year-old is sixty pounds and half my height, and I honestly don’t know when the last time I carried him was. No one ever tells you when the last backyard game with your neighborhood crew happens. It’s the same with holding your kids. One day it’s just… the last time, and you don’t realize it until much later.

Don’t rush through the hard parts. Don’t wish for the next stage. Soak in the one you’re in, even if it’s messy, loud, and exhausting. Because it’s quietly slipping away while you’re busy trying to survive it.

what I've learned from 7 years of fatherhood

2. Kids Are Amazing Teachers

I thought parenting was about what I would teach them. Turns out, it’s the opposite. Kids are little mirrors. They reflect your best traits and your worst habits. They remind you to slow down, to laugh at dumb jokes, to actually watch the sunset instead of just snapping a picture of it.

They’ll humble you, test you, and somehow make you better without ever saying a word.

3. Change Comes From Wanting, Not Needing

I’ve changed, not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to. Kids don’t demand perfection. They demand presence (a lot of it). And that quietly forces you to grow up in the best way possible.

I care more about patience now (and the pursuit of it). About legacy. About how I show up. Parenthood doesn’t rewrite who you are; it refines it.

4. The Connection Takes Time

It took me until my kids were around two to feel like a real dad. The love was always there, but the connection changed. At first, it’s survival mode. You’re tired, confused, and mostly wondering if you’re doing any of it right. But then one day, they say “Daddy,” or reach for your hand, or tell you they love you out of nowhere, and it clicks.

It’s not instant for everyone, and that’s okay. The bond grows with time, not just proximity.

5. Some Days Are Really Hard

There are days when parenting feels like the heaviest weight in the world. You’ll lose your patience, question yourself, and wonder what happened to the version of life that felt simpler. And that’s normal. Sometimes I look back at life before kids, not out of regret, but curiosity. Who was that guy who had time to think, sleep, and shower in peace?

Here’s the truth: life didn’t get easier, but it did get richer. Every hard day is still a day with your kid in it. That perspective helps.

6. Take a Breath. They’re Clueless.

Kids don’t know what they don’t know. They’re figuring it out as they go, just like we are. When they spill, cry, lie, or melt down, it’s not personal. It’s human.

Take a breath. Remember they’re learning how to be people. And we’re learning how to be parents. Grace goes both ways.

7. It’s an Honor

Parenting isn’t just a job. It’s an honor. We get to shape these tiny humans. We get to model how to love, how to fail, how to get back up. That’s heavy, sure, but it’s also incredible.

Our kids won’t remember every toy or trip. They’ll remember how we made them feel. That’s the real work.

The Takeaway

Seven years in, I don’t have all the answers. Some days I feel like I’m crushing it; others, like I’m one tantrum away from a breakdown.

But I do know this: fatherhood isn’t about being perfect. It’s about wanting to be the best dad you can be. So take the photo. Read the book twice. Be the calm in the storm.

It’s going fast. Don’t miss the good stuff trying to get to the next thing. Easier said than done, but definitely something to strive for.

Legendary snowboarder Jeremy Jones returns to Tahoe, but this time he’s not chasing first descents. He’s watching his kids drop into them. Jones Family Day is a masterclass in legacy, risk, and raising kids who catch your passion instead of your fear.

Watch the Video


Video courtesy of Jeremy Jones and Teton Gravity Research.

The Big Idea

For Jones, snowboarding has always been sacred — equal parts freedom, fear, and focus. But this time, the stakes feel higher. Watching your kids chase the same high you did is a different kind of adrenaline.

He admits it’s harder to watch than to ride. Every turn they take tests his trust — in their skills, in his parenting, in the lessons buried under decades of powder and risk.

The clip isn’t just about big mountain lines; it’s about the narrow ones we walk as parents. Protect or let go? Push or pull back? Jones’ answer is pure wisdom: teach them well, then step aside and let them ride.

The Takeaway

Jeremy Jones’ latest chapter isn’t just about conquering peaks, it’s about connection. Your kids don’t need to copy your path. They just need to see you living it fully so they’ll have the courage to find their own.

When the weather drops and the kids are finally in bed, there’s nothing better than sinking into the couch and pulling up a solid blanket. Not your old college fleece. Not your kid’s Spider-Man throw. A real blanket that looks as good as it feels.

Enter the Costco x Pendleton Reversible Throw, a collab we didn’t see coming but are glad exists.

The Build: Comfort Meets Design

This throw hits the balance between comfort and style.

  • Reversible design with a different Pendleton pattern on each side

  • Luxuriously soft 100% polyester for year-round comfort

  • Faux suede binding for a clean, premium finish

  • 600 GSM weight gives it a nice, hefty feel without overheating

  • Dimensions: 50″ × 70″, big enough for naps or the couch

  • Care: Machine wash cold, tumble dry low

According to Costco’s official listing, the blanket is made in China as part of the brand’s collaboration line, keeping the Pendleton look at a wallet-friendly price.

Style Meets Legacy

Pendleton has been in the blanket game for over 150 years, known for bold patterns and heirloom-quality wool. Their classic wool versions sell for $200–$300 at Pendleton USA.

The Costco collab swaps wool for soft, durable polyester, making it easier to use every day. As one Reddit dad put it:

“They’re big and cozy. And super inexpensive.” — r/Costco

You’re not buying a museum piece. You’re buying a blanket that can handle real life.

Why It Works for Dads

  • Every-season comfort. Warm enough for winter, light enough for summer nights.

  • Kid and pet proof. Polyester means no dry cleaning. Wash it, dry it, move on.

  • Heritage design. Classic Pendleton patterns that look good anywhere.

  • Costco pricing. Style and quality without the markup.

A Few Honest Caveats

  • It’s not wool, so don’t expect heirloom quality.

  • Made in China, not Pendleton’s Oregon mills.

  • Limited drops. These blankets sell out fast, so grab one when you can (Costco Fan Blog).

The Dad Verdict

If you like comfort with a little class, this is a solid buy. It looks good, feels great, and won’t make you panic if the toddler spills juice on it.

Price: Around $24.99 at Costco. Deliverly available. 
Bottom line: The Costco x Pendleton Throw is practical, stylish, and built to survive actual family life.