Monday, March 1, 2010

Back when I was a lad...

I mentioned that The Boy has gotten hooked on a new show call Olivia, based on the popular children's books. When I say "new" I actually mean new to us, since we recently moved and now have more channels than we did a while ago. Unfortunately, our Tivo couldn't handle the new stations until I ordered a lost sensor, so Olivia had to be watched live at 4:00 in the afternoon.

This seemed to confuse The Boy no end. After all these years of watching any of his shows on demand, he was now being told that he could only watch this talking pig girl at certain times of the day. He'd get pretty upset with us, thinking it was some sort of punishment that his cruel parents were inflicting on his innocent person. The fact that these shows didn't just magically appear when he demanded them was a foreign concept. Thank God the sensor finally arrived, so Olivia could join the esteemed ranks of Bob the Builder and Curious George in the magic box.

I recoil in horror at the memory of life before Tivo. Having to rush home to watch a show seems so primitive to me now. Hell, I don't even know when most of my shows actually air, or on what channel. I just tell Tivo to save them and that's it. I used to have a pretty fancy VCR, with the ability to record at several different times and days, but even that seems like a mockery of technology now.

Though it wasn't all bad. There was a certain amount of communal enjoyment back then. You knew that Friday was going to be spent talking about the previous night's Seinfeld episode. My roommates and I were religious about being home in time for Iron Chef. Thankfully it aired on Friday nights so where else would we be?

Nowadays you ask someone if they've seen the latest 30 Rock and the most likely response will be, "I'm three shows behind. I just spent the weekend catching up on all of last season's Lost episodes to clear up disk space."

Daydream believer

The Boy and I were hanging out one day when he suddenly asked me, "what is imagination?"

I pondered for a moment and replied, "it's being able to think of things that aren't real. Like I can imagine you growing wings and flying around the room."

The Boy nodded. "I'm imagining I'm watching Bob the Builder," he said.

I sighed, regretting the day I ever turned on a TV in his presence. "Can you imagine anything else? Something not Bob related?"

He thought for a moment, then responded, "I'm imagining I'm watching Olivia," which is a cartoon he only recently started to obsess over.

"Can you imagine anything not on TV?" I asked hopefully.

This was a toughie, but he finally had an answer. "I'm imagining I'm reading a Bob the Builder book!" he announced triumphantly.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Evil is as evil does

The elusive art of humor has... eluded me lately. Fortunately, one of my favorite webcomic artists recently mentioned A Funny Dad Story on his site that had me LOLling, and I don't LOL easily.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Puzzling Development

It's been interesting to watch The Boy develop the skills needed to put a jigsaw puzzle together. As an adult it seems bloody obvious where things go, especially when you're used to doing 3000 piece puzzles and the one in front of you only has a dozen giant pieces.

I didn't react very well at first. The Boy would hold a piece in his hands, stare at it, try it one way, try it another way, then try it the first way again. Even when he had two pieces that obviously connected he'd try every possible combination except for the two sides that actually fit. It was pretty uncanny how bad he was, and I often suspected he was doing it on purpose just to drive me crazy. I would explain over and over how an edge piece has to be next to another edge piece, then he'd try to cram it into the middle of the picture.

After a few months, though, I learned to take it easy and just let him do his thing. The shapes don't seem to influence him, but he's remarkably good at finding parts of a certain object in the picture. So we'll focus on the castle first, and he'll grab pieces with just a hint of crenelation and put it down right where it needs to go. I'll hang back and offer suggestions when he gets stuck, or subtly move missing pieces closer so he'll notice them, but he's getting pretty good on his own. Sometimes he'll even crank out several in a row with no discernible rhyme or reason, which makes me still suspect he's smarter than he lets on, but that's probably just the law of averages at work.

I'm looking forward to the day he can be trusted with a real puzzle. I've got several stashed away in storage, and each one is guaranteed to make a grown man cry.

Elementary, my dear Daddy!

Ever since I was a wee lad I enjoyed a homemade treat called Honey Milk Balls*. I got the craving yesterday so I picked up some honey at the grocery store while The Boy and I were shopping.

We started the drive home when The Boy, out of the blue, asked a dreaded question. "Why did we get honey?"

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I give him a sample of my sinful indulgence every now and then, but being the health hypocrite that I am, he is discouraged from eating it. Him deducing my evening plans would put a crimp in my binging. But what were the odds that a three year old would be that smart?

"We're just out," I casually replied.

"What do we use honey for?" The Boy continued. Damn, I thought.

"Was it in the cookies you made with Mama?" I asked, hopefully, knowing full well it wasn't.

"Nooooo," he said slowly. The car went quiet as he mulled things over and I groped for the radio controls hoping some music would distract him.

"Tea," he finally said. "We use honey in tea."

"Yes," I replied solemnly. "We use honey in tea."

And now I'm writing a blog post well after midnight while waiting for my honey buzz to end.

* Two cups oatmeal, two cups powdered milk, one cup honey, and one cup peanut butter. Mix together and form into balls. Or, in my case, eat right out of the bowl while watching West Wing on DVD.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Number Crunching

My doctor recently mentioned his concerns about the swine flu vaccine and the lack of extensive testing. When you test on 600 subjects, and then give that drug to a hundred thousand, what is going to happen?

Well, that's an easy math problem. Let's assume that there's a one in a thousand chance that the vaccine has some serious side effects. That's a .1% chance. Not a likely event for any given individual, but still something that should never be approved by the Food and Drug Administration.

Testing measures differ from one drug company to the other, I'm sure, but the two brands of the H1N1 vaccine I Googled both mentioned using 600 subjects in their clinical trials. So, what are the odds that they'd miss that .1% chance? If the odds of an individual coming through okay is .999, then the odds of six hundred people not showing any symptoms is .999 to the power of 600. This comes out to .5486, so there is roughly a 55% chance that a potentially fatal side effect could be missed.

Not that a few more test subjects will make me feel warm and fuzzy. Doubling the number of subjects only gives a 70% chance of finding out your serum is poisonous. Tripling it gives an 83% chance.

This sums up in a nutshell my biggest concern about vaccinations. Before injecting something into millions of people, make sure the testing process is more vigorous than for cough drops and foot powder.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Christmas time is here by golly

The Boy had a pretty good holiday, though we didn't plan it very well. A large bulk of his presents came from my family, who we didn't see until three days after the officially appointed birth of Jesus Christ, superstar. Which means that on Christmas day he only got a few things. Then the next day we went to visit The Wife's sister, where The Boy only got a token gift and had to watch his cousins dive into a pile of festively-wrapped loot.

It's an interesting change from the last couple of years, where he was more interested in boxes and wrapping paper than in toys. This year was different, though, partly because he's old enough to grasp the whole concept and partly because we finally got around to getting a tree and putting his gifts under it a week before. This provided the appropriate holiday torture and whetted his appetite for days.

I was hoping for snow, either here or up in New Hampshire, so The Boy and I could do some serious frolicking. But the rain gods were against me. Then the wind gods. Then the oh-my-god-it's-cold gods.