Cutie and the BEAST

Back when I was a lad...

2010-03-01T14:24:00.002-05:00

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

2010-03-01T14:15:00.002-05:00

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.

Evil is as evil does

2010-02-19T00:25:00.003-05:00

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.

Puzzling Development

2010-01-14T12:37:00.002-05:00

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!

2010-01-14T00:06:00.003-05:00

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.

Number Crunching

2010-01-11T15:47:00.004-05:00

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.

Christmas time is here by golly

2010-01-07T06:36:00.003-05:00

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.

Bubble Boy

2009-11-30T15:00:00.002-05:00

There's an episode of 30 Rock where one character explains to another that attractive people live in a "bubble," where their good looks shield them from the less pleasant aspects of human behavior. Recently The Boy was at a birthday party and one of the mothers commented on him being the most adorable kid there. It struck me that, despite my genes, he may possibly grow up to be charismatic.

The thought worries me. I'm prepared for most talks about life. I'll be able to guide or bluff my way through most topics, but the ability to talk to someone to get what you want is pure sorcery to me. Making a good first impression is a wondrous thing, and will require a "with great power comes great responsibility" talk.

All Hallows Eve

2009-11-02T14:40:00.004-05:00

The Boy's first official Trick-or-Treat event went very well. Dressed as Bob the Builder, he went door to door and mumbled until they gave him candy. His initial hesitation evaporated when we got caught in the wake of a mob of children and he became part of the crowd.

We didn't stay out long, since sugar is the Devil's work, and so went home to dole out candy of our own. This turned out to be The Boy's favorite part. We'd sit on the porch, keeping an eager eye out for interlopers, then I'd hold the bowl while The Boy would carefully put candy bars in each bag. He got so into it that he didn't even mind when I had to dip into his own stash when we ran low. As it is he still has some pieces left in his bag but doesn't seem all that interested in them. This strikes me as odd, considering his candy radar can pick up the smallest tic-tac buried under the couch cushions.

Cruel Tricks For Dear Friends

2009-10-20T14:10:00.002-04:00

Fatherhood is full of little joys; your child's smile, watching him discover the world, yada yada yada. But my favorite moments are when I mess with his head.

It started innocently enough. We were taking a break from our usual game of Chase The Boy with Lego Vehicles, and I had Mister Plow (no relation to Homer Simpson) eat a Lego piece. It was a simple enough trick. I brought Mister Plow down and knocked the piece into my hand and palmed it. It wasn't up to David Copperfield's skill level but it was quick enough to fool The Boy.

He's three now, and wise in the ways of the world. He has a pretty good idea that inanimate objects don't eat each other. I then picked up the plow with both hands and spat the piece back out, another sleight of hand beyond his perception. He gave me a perfect "you're putting me on" look and insisted I do it again. And again. I eventually showed him the trick, which sparked his interest even more. So I spent a good ten minutes going over the moves until he got distracted by a piece of string.

I toyed briefly with the thought of keeping it a secret, just to make the world (and me) a bit more mysterious. But kids have enough to figure out in a Newtonian universe, much less a quantum one. I don't need to add magic to the mix.

Besides, Penn & Teller have made a living showing people that the joy isn't in seeing the trick, but in appreciating how it's done. But for The Boy's fourth birthday, when I pull a Lego rabbit out of a hat, that secret I'm taking with me to the grave.

Happy birthday to you

2009-09-07T22:35:00.002-04:00

We had The Boy's third birthday party this weekend. Technically, his birthday was the week before and he woke up that day demanding cake. I had to explain to him that due to scheduling issues we were going to observe it on a different day, like President's Day, and if it was good enough for George Washington then it was damn well good enough for him.

That didn't seem to mollify him, though, so we went out to breakfast at the local diner and had cake for dessert. That was the highlight of the day, since he then proceeded to bang his head at the playground and get stung by a yellow jacket at the train museum, so all in all it wasn't a great b-day for him.

Anyway, the party went well and he really enjoys the gifts he got, including several Bob the Builder toys and a large concrete mixer. (You can tell he likes them because he's already trying to take them apart.)

Birthday gifts have always been a foreign concept to me. When I was a wee lad we'd have our cake and ice cream and that would be it. For a few years we'd get a buck or two in our birthday cards, during that sweet spot of our youths when the relatives thought we'd be old enough to appreciate cash and young enough to not be able to mow lawns to earn our bread. But presents were right out. I still remember one time, probably around age ten or so, when a friend of mine gave me a Peanuts puzzle for my birthday and I looked at him like he had two heads.

My neglected childhood aside, I do worry about how much is too much. As a New Englander it's been ingrained into me to resist frivolous spending, and a play room filled with unused toys constitutes "spoiling" the child. On the other hand, it wouldn't have killed me to get a freakin' Omega Supreme Transformer when I was a kid.

We've been pretty good up to this point, doling out gifts one at a time and only after The Boy has harped on it for several weeks, but I'm sure that'll get harder and harder as he grows up and learns how to push our buttons.

Or rather, push The Wife's buttons, since with me he'll be competing with several generations of New England breeding. Ayuh.

There be monsters!

2009-08-25T21:46:00.004-04:00

The other night The Boy ran to his mother, claiming there was a monster outside, and jumped into her arms. Naturally, this didn't sit well with me. Pulling him away from his mother's comforting bosom, I put The Boy on my knee and explained the situation.

First, I'm twice his mother's size so if he's looking for someone to hide behind it's gonna be me. I mean really, all The Wife would be able to do is scream at the thing and flail her little arms. Whereas I am freakishly strong and could easily chuck furniture at anything foolish enough to come slobbering at my doorstep.

Second, and most important, I'm the one with the training. The Wife wouldn't know a ghost from the Bogeyman. Does she know the best times to hide under the blanket vs. whipping out the flashlight? Would she know what storybooks are best used as throwing stars at anything creeping out of the closet? I think not!

For some reason The Boy has become obsessed with monsters lately. Every dimly-lit room has a monster in it now, especially if it's the bedroom around bedtime. The Wife made a futile attempt at telling him there's no such thing as monsters, but I quickly undermined that by teaching him proper monster warfare. Every enemy has its weakness, and the typical monster can't defend itself against a good punch in the nose. Some toys can make good bludgeoning weapons, but really your best bet is to smack it in the schnoz.

I wasn't sure how effective my talks were until one night I heard him walk into the dark bedroom and shout, "Take that, monster!" It did my heart proud.

Whyfor why?

2009-08-13T14:23:00.002-04:00

The Boy's favorite word lately is "why." I can't even get through a sentence before he blurts out "Why?" It leads to some awkward conversations, like:

"Simon, it's"

"Why?"

"going to be"

"Why?"

"a nice day so let's"

"Why?"

"go to the park."

"Wh--- okay!"

It's also forced me to do some soul searching, since it's not in my nature to just reply with "because." Why shouldn't he just push all his toys onto the floor? Do we really need to keep things up on shelves? It's only more effort to pick them up, and he's going to have them on the floor again soon enough. It's entropy at work, and there's no fighting it. Why dump more energy into a decaying system?

So then I look at him and say, "You're right. The second law of thermodynamics is on your side. The universe is slowly grinding us all to powder and our feeble attempts at stopping it only speed up our eventual return to nothingness."

To which The Wife will respond, "Why did you say that?!"

So you see, there's really no escaping that word.

Thammy the Theal and other thtories

2009-08-04T12:55:00.003-04:00

Last time we moved we lost one of The Boy's books, and I was happy to find it last night wedged between two D&D tomes. It's an okay book, but the reason I like it is because I can use my Barry White voice when I read it.

Back when The Boy only had a few books around I developed voices for most of them. Corduroy was read with a British accent, Bubba and Beau had a Texan drawl, and Sammy the Seal was lisping and a wee bit flamboyant. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) Most voices were selected after several readings, some were chosen right from the start. Leonardo the Terrible Monster, for example, is told in a deep, spooky voice despite the premise of the story being a monster who is too cute to actually scare anyone.

All these books are still around, but now we get a regular influx from the library so most of our nighttime reading is too transient for me to decide on a voice. I think The Boy prefers it that way, to be honest. When I tried reading Curious George in a Victorian Englishman's voice I only got as far as, "The curious case of George the monkey" before he demanded I "read it normal."

And no son of mine should know what "normal" means!

Our house, in the middle of our street

2009-07-30T13:38:00.003-04:00

When I was young our house was the one where all the other kids would hang out. We had room to run around and my mother would always provide everyone with drinks or snacks.

The way things are looking, I doubt my place will become such a mecca for the neighborhood urchins. The Boy often plays with Christian, who lives next door and is a few years older than he. We made the mistake of feeding him snacks once or twice, and now he's a constant presence at our back door.

I, however, am a selfish bastard and see no reason why I should share my hard-earned grapes with this ragamuffin. So I'll dole out an extra portion when it's obvious The Boy wants something to eat, but there have been plenty of times when I've refused requests for apples or crackers because I could sense the invisible strings of a hungry eight year old puppet master lurking in the shadows.

I'm honestly amazed that Christian tries to mooch off us at all. At his house they get soda and candy bars. If I was him I wouldn't waste my digestive juices on lame old fruits and vegetables.

Day Care Blues

2009-07-30T13:15:00.002-04:00

We recently put The Boy into day care. Or, as we optimistically refer to it around him, "play school."

I've got mixed feelings about it, but to be honest he could use the social interaction. The Wife and I have been slacking off with befriending other families in the neighborhood so The Boy hasn't acquired a cadre of friends his own age. With any luck being with a bunch of other boys who are more than willing to hit back when they are hit will help to curb his overly-enthusiastic playing style. Or at least get it out of his system during the day.

The biggest danger with day care is finding one you trust. We looked at a couple and found one nearby that looked good. It wasn't the biggest, or the best organized, but it had some charm to it and the kids looked lively. Unfortunately, the owner has a pretty low opinion of me.

I don't give much verbal feedback when someone is talking, especially if they're strangers. I'll stand and stare at them, waiting for them to finish whatever they're saying. Unfortunately, there are polar opposites to this, people who desperately need feedback during a conversation or they start to panic. And when these people panic, they usually talk even more. So we get stuck in this verbal sink hole from hell where they keep talking more and more and I get quieter and quieter because I'm paying less and less attention to their ramblings. The best case ending, the talker runs out of breath and faints. (Worst case ending, we both get run over by a bus.)

This was one of those sink hole moments, and I didn't have The Wife with me during the tour to provide backup, so the owner just kept going on and on and getting less and less impressed with me. It didn't help when she asked if The Boy could bring a stuffed animal or blanket that he cuddles with to provide security, and I told her that he usually curls up with construction toys. She obviously thinks I'm a typical clueless dad who thinks of his child as an alien pooping creature, but she's not the one who has to keep digging toy trucks and plastic hammers out from the bedsheets.

Anyway, The Boy adjusted well. His first day was great, and the teachers were amazed that he's never been in day care before. The second day wasn't as good, since he realized this wasn't just a one-shot event, so there was some crying. Now, after two weeks, it's hit or miss whether or not he gets upset when The Wife drops him off but he gets over it quickly enough. I give him another week before he's running the place.

All's fair in love and berries

2009-07-12T23:16:00.002-04:00

We don't have room for a garden, but a couple months ago I bought a strawberry and a blueberry bush to keep on our back deck. Unfortunately, The Boy is a bit too enthusiastic about picking the berries off so we get a lot of green buds that will never live to see their juicy potential. I've had to keep a careful eye on him whenever he's outside.

Another drawback is I only bought one strawberry bush, and when you only get a single berry every couple of days The Boy is all over it. I swear he's rigged some kind of alarm to that plant, because he always knows when I try to sneak out to forage. I don't blame him, because the one piece of fruit I managed to keep from him was amazingly good. I had to force him to give The Wife a piece one day, practically at gun point.

It looks like strawberry season is over but the blueberries are finally coming in. After teasing us for months with little green balls it finally offered up a single perfectly blue berry just waiting to be picked. Naturally, I seized upon my chance and picked it, and it was amazingly good. (Okay, it could have done with another few days on the stem, but still...)

The rest of the berries are starting to turn blue, which makes me think I should install a cage around the thing to keep eager hands away before it's time. Heck, maybe he and I will even offer a few to The Wife... but don't hold your breath.

Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails

2009-06-29T02:17:00.002-04:00

The Boy and I were at the beach the other day when a seagull landed nearby with an eel in its beak. They wrestled for quite a while, with the eel trying to squirm back into the water and the bird dragging it back onto the sand, until finally the seagull got the eel's head in its mouth and swallowed it whole in several gulps. And it wasn't a small eel, either.

You'd think The Boy would be fascinated by this, but he barely looked up from his bucket of seaweed and sand. I admit that as the gruesome scene played out I became less and less sure of my desire to have him watch, but it did amaze me that he and the other kids around didn't seem to care. The adults, on the other hand, were riveted and there was quite a crowd by the time it was over.

I mildly scolded him for not wanting to watch nature at its most disgusting, but maybe it was for the best. The last thing I need is for him to wake up in the middle of the night shouting, "Bird ate eel! Bird ate eel!"

Fair weather muse

2009-06-26T08:24:00.002-04:00

Between crappy weather, work stress, and family health issues it hasn't been a great few weeks for me.

Now, a true writer of funny things would channel that angst into creating jokes. I, on the other hand, am no Jack Benny and prefer to wallow in my misery, so my evenings lately have been spent playing spider solitaire and watching Japanese animation on youtube.

But now I've come up for air and should sum up the last few weeks:

My descent into slothitude began when The Wife took The Boy to Florida to visit The In-Laws, leaving me free as a bird for a week. By the end of the first day I had caught up on all my Tivo shows and successfully conquered Alpha Centauri yet again, and for the rest of the week I was actually kinda bored. Not bored enough to do chores around the house, but still. After a week of decadence it was a relief to have the family back.

We brought The Boy to see the movie UP. This was his very first movie theater experience, and I was a little concerned about how he'd react. Would he sit still? Would he talk through the whole thing? Would he freak out at the giant screen? Would he scream when we didn't get him a bunch of snacks, or would he just mug some little girl for her Junior Mints?

Well, he did just fine. He stretched out in his seat, with a big bag of popcorn within reach, and grinned through the whole thing. All during the promos he kept saying, "I like this movie!" but settled down after a while. The only times he got restless was when the action slowed down for that lame "character development" stuff, but fortunately all the other kids in the theater also started to move around and talk during those bits so he wasn't alone. Now I'm wondering what our next theater experience will be. Maybe I'll take him to Wolverine.

Speaking of which, UP was a great film. I recommend it for all ages.

Sleeping has always been a challenge in our household, but I think we've finally come to some sort of arrangement. We have a small mattress for The Boy and it's next to our bed, so he's still within easy reach of cuddles if need be. But he will frequently wake up in the middle of the night and start talking to us. The Wife is also having trouble sleeping, since she's used to wedging herself in the corner with a mountain of pillows. Well, I woke up the other day to find The Boy sleeping next to me and The Wife on his mattress, wedged into the corner. Eh, whatever works.

Although I do wonder, from past experience, how a woman who usually takes up 90% of a queen bed can comfortably lie on a mattress a fraction of that size.

Speaking of sleep, that accursed sun isn't helping matters. All winter long I could reliably use the absence of sunlight to convince The Boy that it was time for bed. Now the wretched sphere is up far too long, and to make matters worse the neighbor kids have been spending more time outside, flagrantly enjoying themselves right outside our bedroom window. How am I supposed to compete with that at bedtime?

Total Recall

2009-05-13T21:58:00.002-04:00

I frequently ponder The Boy's brain. Or rather, his mental development and how I can improve it, because if he's going to be evil then he'd better be an evil genius because I still expect him to support me in my old age.

His folks are fairly bright, but how big a factor hereditary plays in intelligence is up for debate so I want his environment to be optimal for memory and learning. When he gets older I'll hook him up to a little device I'm working on called Mister Quizzer to ensure he gets... proper motivation, but for now he's pretty much on his own.

His memory seems uncanny, recalling idle comments made days or weeks earlier, which is why I've stopped badmouthing people in front of him. Do all kids have this kind of recall at this age? I'm guessing most do. However, nature is a lazy slacker so I have a theory:

The brain requires energy, just like any other organ, and nature doesn't like to spend calories frivolously. If The Boy mentions throwing a sock at the cat three weeks ago at two in the morning, I do my best to remember and comment on it. I'll even ask for or remind him of more details, like the color of the sock or how the cat felt about clothing bombardment at that time of night. The more I blow these things off, the more some part of his brain may decide that it's not worth remembering every little detail, like historical dates and chemical equations, and his future as a historian or chemist may be ruined. I'm actually impressed with how much minutiae I can dredge up to keep up with him, considering how oblivious I am to the world around me.

I mentioned keeping an eye on what I say around him now, but to be honest I've always been cautious. With advances in medical science nowadays it's entirely possible that in The Boy's lifetime they could develop a drug that gives you total recall of your entire life, and fifty years from now I don't want him filing a lawsuit against me for our time with Mister Quizzer.

tongue tied

2009-05-13T21:46:00.003-04:00

I listen to a lot of audio books during my commute, and I've developed a new found respect for those readers. I can't even get through Sammy The Seal without tripping over every other word, much less stay coherent hour after hour. I know they don't do it all in one take, and in some of the less-polished works it's painfully obvious where the cuts are made, but it's still impressive.

Sometimes even the authors read it themselves, which is a mixed bag. Neal Stephenson has a pleasant voice and can make his books feel like he's just chatting to you. On the other side of the spectrum, Stephen Hawking actually read his own book, Black Holes and Baby Universes and Other Essays. It's like listening to a Dalek explain theoretical physics. Almost as bad was Ray Bradbury reading Fahrenheit 451, who sounds so much like Andre the Giant that I kept expecting him to shout, "I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!"

The bigger they are...

2009-05-09T23:29:00.002-04:00

Like any boy, The Boy is fascinated with all things big. His current fetish is construction vehicles and fire engines, but I'm sure dinosaurs and tanks, jets, and other implements of destruction are not far down the line. I remember when my nephew, back when his age was still in single digits, became obsessed with the fact that I was one of the few people he had ever met who was bigger than his dad.

I'm trying to figure out how this mindset fits into brain evolution. For hunters it makes sense to want to figure out how to take down the big game. A single woolly mammoth could feed your tribe for a week, and in a calories-in per calories-expended ratio it's probably more efficient than chasing after rabbits all day. There's also the fact that males are territorial and like to size up the competition (which makes my nephew's behavior a little unsettling).

In the end, I've concluded that the biggest draw to fire engines and dinosaurs is the fact that... they're just so darn cool.

Romancing the stone

2009-05-04T14:03:00.002-04:00

Ironically enough, the weekend that I experience the "joy" of a kidney stone is the same weekend that The Boy decides to eat a pebble. So now it's a race to see who passes his stone first.

I wonder if this counts as father/son bonding.

That new baby smell

2009-04-28T23:07:00.002-04:00

When The Boy was born a lot of mothers looked at him sadly and said they missed when their own kids were that age. At the time, and for a couple of years after that, I thought they were crazy. I figured it would be much better once the kid was walking on his own, because I spent 90% of my day carrying The Boy around and was ready for a break. Little did I know that when I picked up my cousin's newborn boy the other day I would look at his wrinkled grinning face and suddenly realize that I spend much more energy chasing after my toddler than I ever did lugging him around in a sling.

Those women were probably talking about some kind of sentimental emotion thing, but for a guy it's all about the caloric requirements of parenting. I shall watch my son play Little League with a smile on my face, enjoying the fact that he's out there working up a sweat while I can finally sit on my ass and eat chips.

Let's get ready to Roomba!

2009-04-28T22:58:00.002-04:00

The Boy's favorite toy at the moment is the Roomba, a small robotic sweeper that putters around the room cleaning the floor. While I agree that the way it zips around can be mesmerizing, with The Boy it practically becomes a nightly religious rite. He'll point with glee when the recharge light turns green, then we'll bring it to the middle of a room and turn it on. And when I say 'we' I actually mean me, since The Boy at that point has scrambled onto a bed or couch or whatever is around. This is because it's firmly believed in our household that the Roomba is a deadly killing machine, despite the fact that the worst it can do to you is lightly bump against you. Even if, somehow, you managed to get a body part under the chassis and near the sweeping brush the worst you'll get is some minor tickling.

There have been times when The Boy has found himself in the middle of the room with the dreaded machine steadily coming towards him and, instead of moving away, he'll freeze up and start bawling. But Daddy has consistently come to save him before he loses any limbs, so the risk of death is a small price to pay for the privilege of watching Roomba work. For me, the risk of childhood trauma to my son is a small price to pay for clean floors.

Religion and politics

2009-04-17T13:30:00.001-04:00

A guy at work just had a baby, and I'm avoiding him like the plague.

The problem, you see, is that I'm sure he's doing countless things with his child that I don't agree with, so it's easier to just keep my mouth shut by not talking about babies at all. I've learned over the years that child rearing falls under the same category as religion and politics, topics that just piss people off. That's because people can't help but listen and feel that it's a slight against them. Either you take offense to how you raise your kids or you take offense to how you were raised, claiming that you turned out okay so what makes me think your dear old mother did you wrong?

Well, let's ignore the fact that the number of Americans depressed and/or on drugs is rapidly rising, so the odds are good that you're not as emotionally stable and secure as you claim. Let's also ignore the steady increase of physical illness and autoimmune disorders in children. While we're at it, let's gloss over child obesity and the lack of effort put into studying baby's nutritional needs and food sensitivities. Plus the fact that cribs, strollers, formula, and vaccinations go against a million years of evolution...

... So yeah, I'm not going to ask him how his baby is doing.

Let's make a deal...

2009-04-13T14:46:00.002-04:00

The Boy has become quite the little bargainer. At some point he learned what "little bit" means, and now every demand for candy or television is punctuated with "little bit!" I'm pretty sure it's never actually worked, so I have no idea why he thinks this'll help his cause.

I thought this was just some automatic response, but the other day I was fortunate enough to watch his brain in action. The Wife was making deviled eggs and had scooped a spoonful of mayo out of the jar. The Boy, thinking that mayonnaise was now fair game for anyone with a spoon, toddled over to the silverware drawer and opened it up. The part that impressed me was that this master negotiator, after a moment of contemplation, passed over serving spoons, soup spoons, and even his normal cereal spoons and picked up one of his old baby spoons. He knew there might be some disagreement about allowing him to stuff mayo straight into his mouth so he picked the smallest utensil he could find in order to meet us halfway.

It showed more forethought than most adults so it was tempting to actually let him get away with it. But you have to draw the line somewhere, and even I balk at eating mayonnaise without even the pretense of other foods.

Superdads

2009-04-11T23:03:00.002-04:00

One of the cool things about being a dad is that to a youngster you can do anything. Broken toy? Superglue makes it good as new! Skinned knee? A band aid saves his life! Ball stuck on roof? Behold the power of the ladder! Add to this the near-mystical properties of duct tape and you practically reach godhood.

I was pondering this very topic when the fellows who write Penny Arcade, a comic strip about computer games, started talking about it in one of their podcasts. They were bringing up stories of their childhood when their dads seemed so badass, running power tools one-handed and taking battery acid in the face without so much as flinching. Then one of them mentioned how he recently got around to using his circular saw for the first time and spent half an hour actually reading the manual. On a circular saw.

Now, I'll freely admit that I lack many "guy" traits, but the ability to use power tools is encoded into our very DNA. I mean, you pull the trigger and the blade moves. From there the male brain can pretty much map out the required steps. It made me feel pity for the poor cartoonist's son, but in that household the console game reigns supreme so in all likelihood the kid will grow up idolizing his father for being able to do a double-flip jump flip jump that allows Mario to save the princess once again. At least, I hope so.

Potato wrath

2009-04-07T21:37:00.003-04:00

When The Boy hit exactly two years of age we prided ourselves on entering the Terrible Two years without a problem. Despite his... precocious behavior he wasn't too bad to deal with, and we were smug with the certainty that attachment parenting had actually paid off.

Unfortunately, they should really call it the Terrible Two-Point-Fives. If he had embraced the dark side before, now he had built the Death Star and was blowing up planets. Planets inhabited by cute, fuzzy kittens. He embraced any chance to do mischief, and would melt down given the slightest provocation. Food has become a major source of contention, since he seems to only want tater tots and french fries now, and while getting over some kind of stomach virus we had to put the kibosh on anything remotely tasty.

I didn't realize how much resentment was in that adorable little head, though, until the other day. He had acquired the extendable card key that clips onto my belt for work and he was swinging it around. The clip part was heavy enough to whip out on its string with enough force to make it a deadly little whip, as The Wife had discovered just the day before.

I calmly told him that what he was doing was dangerous, and that he had already given Mama an owie by doing that.

"You don't want to give Daddy an owie, do you?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

Not thinking he understood the question, I asked, "now why would you want to give Daddy an owie?"

To which he bellowed, "Tater Tots!" and came at me with murder in his eyes, swinging the card key like mad.

au revoir, retail

2009-03-31T21:21:00.002-04:00

Two days ago The Wife and I closed down our baby store.

We started it nearly two years ago, after realizing there was a good market for baby slings and cloth diapers in this area. Unfortunately, the market wasn't quite good enough and it never made much money. And when I got a real job The Wife had to deal not only with it but The Boy and other issues so it became more of a hassle than a labor of love. The economy nailed the coffin shut, but there were plenty of other factors that helped dig the grave. And embalm the corpse. And perform Last Rites. And declare time of death. (Death metaphors are fun!)

It's a pity it didn't work out but I'm not sad to see it go, to be honest. I had some good times there introducing people to the joys of attachment parenting but in the end it just turned out to be something that ate up my weekends. I'll still berate people for destroying the planet with disposable diapers, and I'll keep glaring at zombie-inducing baby strollers, but now instead of doing it as a professional I'll just be a crazy person.

The thing I'll miss most, though, is being a shopkeeper. I never noticed it before but there's a clique in each town of store owners who can relate to each other's circumstances. Between greedy landlords and bad pedestrian traffic and surplus Christmas inventory there is always plenty to kvetch about, and now I'm out of the club.

On the bright side, now I don't have to talk to that guy who sells dead rats from his van. That's carrying the "retail clique" thing a little too far.

rice is nice

2009-03-22T21:10:00.003-04:00

One of The Boy's favorite pastimes is playing with rice. We put a tarp on the floor, give him a big bowl of rice and various kitchen implements (bowls, measuring cups, spoons, etc.) and he goes to town. It's usually a good way to kill an hour or so. He loves pouring stuff from one container to another, and this is a good substitute for water.

Unfortunately it often ends in tears, either his or mine. He'll eventually decide that the tarp is too constraining and start flinging the rice all over the room. Or he'll start to shove the not-terribly-clean rice into his mouth. So then there's yelling and wrestling and a timeout on the couch while daddy vacuums the entire floor. But it's worth it for that sweet, sweet hour of freedom.

Third fiddle

2009-03-19T09:39:00.002-04:00

I don't mind playing second fiddle to The Wife when it comes to my child's affection. But I draw the line when, if we're alone and he scrapes his knee, rather than turn to me he'll insist on going next door so that the five year old neighbor can kiss it and make it better.

Da bears

2009-03-04T20:12:00.002-05:00

I found it odd that The Boy never really cared about stuffed animals, or really anything soft and cuddly. I'd like to say that it's because he takes after his manly father, but I do confess I had three stuffed rabbits when I was a tyke. (That is, until I cut them open and took out most of the stuffing so I could use them as puppets.)

I always assumed that it was because he was always being carried around. Why settle for some piece of fabric when you're strapped to a soft, warm human all the time? Even after he mostly walked on his own he still got plenty of cuddle time. But lately he's taken a shine to a bear, a rabbit, and a dog and will often juggle the three of them in his arms while trying to go to bed, especially if I'm the one putting him down for the night.

This coincided, not surprisingly, with when The Wife started to ween him. So now I'm obsessed with how often he'll cling to the stuffed critters and will monitor him at night trying to gauge whether or not he's feeling deprived of affection. He's completely off the boob now, but it was interesting to note that his clingy behavior didn't increase. It makes me feel better about our anticipation of his developmental stage.

Don't get me wrong, if the house was on fire he'd probably still choose to save that stupid bear over me, but I've gotten used to being low on the totem pole.

Don't be a dick

2009-03-02T22:06:00.003-05:00

Working in a natural parenting store has exposed me to many husbands over the last couple of years, and they all fall under three general categories:

The first is the one resigned to just do what the wife tells him. He may believe in baby carrying and cloth diapers or not, but he's willing to bow to his partner's more extensive knowledge on these topics and just does what he is told. It's somewhat sad, and I try to draw him out a bit and give him sage advice like how a baby in a sling is a great chick magnet, but on the whole he is still trying to figure out what happened to his life.

The second is the rare over enthused husband who has done even more research than his wife and is more often than not dragging her along. These guys are actually a bit scary to me, but god bless 'em.

The third, alas, is the dick. He's a guy who is activally opposed to the freaky hippy natural parenting lifestyle, whether it's because of the expense or the imagined slight to the way his mother raised him or the fear that his drinkin' buddies will laugh at him, he'll spend the entire time in my store finding fault with everything. I've had women on the verge of tears because they're desperately trying to master a baby sling while their husbands stand to one side and point out everything she's doing wrong and not-so-subtly hinting that maybe it's not worth the effort.

Now, I admit that when it comes to marriage I'm pretty well whipped, but it baffles me that any woman would put up with that kind of crap. Are these guys saints the rest of the time? As soon as they walk out my door do they suddenly offer to carry all the bags and suggest that they go jewelry shopping? I know it's not a perfect world, but really, was marrying this guy really a good idea?

Doing what's best for your kid is often not the easiest route. It takes practice to master a baby sling or mei tai, but the baby becomes much more attached and emotionally secure. Cloth diapers require a bit more work but are much better for the environment and are actually cheaper in the long run. Co-sleeping means having to fight for bed space but makes for a more secure baby and actually gives you more sleep. Breastfeeding is often tricky to start but is the only food that nature intended your newborn to have.

So you may not agree with everything your wife wants to do, but try to show a little support. At the very least, don't be a dick.

Polly want a cracker!

2009-02-23T13:02:00.002-05:00

The Boy is talking up a storm nowadays, and has taken to parroting back random words and sentences. I must say it's awfully darn cute, but it does mean I really need to start watching what I say around him. It doesn't matter how adorable he is when he tries to pronounce "genitalia," The Wife still frowns on it.

so.... how's things?

2009-02-18T21:00:00.003-05:00

Like most mortals when faced with a blank screen (or to be old school, a blank piece of paper) I find my mind suddenly empty of all the things I meant to say whenever I try to write a blog post. A month of making mental notes about The Boy's behavior have come to naught, so I start writing this in the hopes that some subterranean inspiration will dig its way up to the surface of my psyche long enough for me to club it and drag it out into the open.

Ironically, the first memory that comes to mind is of violence. Or the threat of violence. Or, to be honest, just threats of mild discipline. The Boy has gotten to the point where he understands cause and effect pretty well, so I can say things like, "If you don't pick up your toys you can't watch TV," or "If you don't eat your meat you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?"

It's nice being able to reason with him somewhat, though he still firmly believes that the laws of the house (and sometimes the laws of physics) don't really apply to him. I mean, we've only got a handful of rules that we enforce, like not playing with sharp knives or the gas oven, but he still insists on trying to push these rare limits. I'm very tempted to just make up some arbitrary rules, like having to hop on one foot to get a cookie or dancing the funky chicken to stay up past his bedtime.

Tardy Santa

2009-01-22T13:01:00.001-05:00

I finally mailed out the last of my Christmas presents today, a mere twenty-eight days late. This is fine, though, because they're destined for my family and we're not too strict with deadlines. I receive almost daily updates from my brother telling me how close he is to mailing out my gifts, which still hasn't happened yet, so at least I'm better than he is.

What gets me, though, is how pathetic my purchased gifts are. They're mostly minor trinkets or joke gifts, perfectly acceptable and appreciated on Christmas day when you're surrounded by presents, but when you receive a package at the end of January and discover it's socks and a bobble-head you can't help but feel a bit slighted. Again, though, my family has pretty low expectations when it comes to gift-giving so I shouldn't worry too much.

On the bright side, The Boy is getting a trickle of presents from slacker relatives and loving it. Dumping a pile of toys on a toddler all at once is a bit cruel, in my opinion, so I'm happy to see him receive one or two at a time and actually play with them for a bit. Christmas day was a madhouse of unwrapping and having pieces of flashing plastic thrust into his hands only to have them wrenched away, replaced with something new. I'm pretty sure by the end of it he had a mild case of shell shock.

I, on the other hand, fully appreciated his distraction and commandeered some of his toys for my own enjoyment. So, Merry Belated Christmas.

Coming to a head.

2009-01-19T13:38:00.003-05:00

For my birthday I received a new pillow. This may not seem very momentous, but I'm very particular with what goes under my head at night. I prefer something about as hard as a block of wood and covered with a pillow case. (Preferably a case with a high thread count. I'm not a peasant, after all.)

It's not quite as hard as my old pillow, but that might be because I've had my old one for several years now and it's been through a lot. I'm a reasonably clean guy but after thousands of hours resting a body part on an item that never gets laundered even I had to admit that my poor pillow had seen better days. I did love that pillow, though, and it made me think of other things I've had to get rid of over the years.

One was a shirt with a smiley face that got too ratty. It was several sizes too large even for me, so I could walk up to people, spread my arms, and become a wall of yellow with a giant face staring at you. I'd accompany this with a shouted, "Smile!!"

I've also lost a few root beer drinking glasses, which make me especially sad. I'd like to say it was The Boy who broke them, but I think it was actually The Wife. (She was always jealous of my fondness for root beer.)

My biggest regret, though, is losing an old plastic bowl. It was big and white, with a pucker on the bottom where it must have gotten too close to something hot. It wasn't much to look at, but it was distinctive and I loved it because it would make a great cherished memory for my kids. I imagined them eating popcorn out of it while watching Disney movies (or old Doctor Who episodes, if they take after me). It's the kind of memory that sticks with you, and I was hoping they'd fight over this bowl when I die.

This was before I realized there was no way in hell I'd ever have more than one kid, of course, so I'll have to think of some other way to make The Boy suffer from beyond the grave.

What's da password?

2009-01-12T22:43:00.002-05:00

Picture a dingy-looking building in the seamier side of town. You pass a few unsavory types on your way to the door, then enter into a large room filled with people like you; forced to find solace in remote locations. You and your cohorts sit down at a table and you ask the waitress for... a highchair and a box of crayons.

In many ways the modern-day speakeasy is the child-friendly restaurant. While not illegal, bringing a baby into most eating establishments will cause a few dirty looks and silent prayers from customers hoping you won't be seated next to them. If your kid is in a good mood and behaves, then all is well. Elderly patrons play peek-a-boo with him, the waitress sneaks him some crackers, and all is right with the world. The other 99% of the time you've got a squirming, yelling bundle of hyperactive energy strapped to a seat, in a way similar to how a detonator is strapped to plastic explosives.

There's a restaurant nearby that I've seen for years but never went into. It's not in the best of shape and looks like a biker bar, but The Wife kept getting recommendations for it so eventually we went. Inside was filled with kids. There must have been over a dozen toddlers, nearly one per table, and the staff were quick with the highchair and child-friendly menus. It was a sight both beautiful and terrible, but I have to say it was remarkably orderly and low-key. This is a place that obviously went for a niche market and it's paying off. Add decent food at a reasonable price and we became regulars, at least until The Boy is old enough to handle himself at the local fondue place.

My souffle! Ruined!

2009-01-12T22:27:00.002-05:00

I'm no Iron Chef but I've always done pretty well in the kitchen. I can follow a recipe easily enough and have a few favorites that come out pretty well (chicken tetrazzini and Italian beef are my specialties).

Unfortunately, over the years I've become more and more limited in what I make, due to family dietary concerns and preferences. I also find that with the distractions of parenting I've pretty much become a sucky cook. I hit the bottom of the barrel tonight, when I screwed up boiling potatoes.

I'm still not sure what happened. They probably got cooked too long, or maybe weren't very good quality, but they took on the consistency and flavor of silly putty at some point. I loaded them down with butter, which improved the flavor but didn't actually mix with the Starch of Doom, it just glazed small nuggets of it. I'm a New Englander, which means eating what's in front of me so the kids who are starving in Ethiopia will have some small comfort, but even my cast-iron stomach is not happy with the aftermath.

That didn't stop me from putting the rest in the fridge so The Boy could have it for leftovers tomorrow, of course.

Sage advice

2009-01-07T22:07:00.003-05:00

If you breastfeed, and I hope you do/will, then come up with some kind of subtle code to use around the baby. Otherwise, you'll eventually be flying in an airplane or sitting in a crowded room and everyone will hear, "Boobie! Boobie!"

I mentioned this to a friend and she suggested "Stella," which I think is a good one. Personally, I'd recommend... "Khan!"

Words, words everywhere

2009-01-07T21:44:00.002-05:00

The Boy has finally gone crazy with speaking, parroting back random words that he hears us say. I gotta say it's gosh-darn cute, especially since he hasn't mastered most of the sounds yet.

I'm trying to think back to when it started, but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. He did have an exciting Christmas, seeing many people and even flying to Florida to visit his grandparents, so maybe that jogged his memory. The Wife did abandon our references to them as Grampa and Gramma and settled for Pop-Pop and Nannie, which The Boy can manage, so I do wonder if that gave him the confidence he needed to try other sounds. Up to this point you could ask him to say something and he'd just reply with a firm, "No."

Things like this make me ponder developmental milestones, like speaking or walking. There are many anecdotes about a kid learning some new skill right after getting sick, and I wonder if the brain needs some kind of kick in the pants to get out of its rut. The Boy gets plenty of activity during the normal course of the day, plus several different adults to abuse and manipulate, but it could be that we're just too boring for him.

But then I think about how humans evolved and what stimulation the brain received several thousand years ago. At most The Boy would have a small tribe to learn from, with exploits in hunting and gathering. The odds of him getting sick on a regular basis would be slim, thanks to clean living and a dispersed population. All in all his life would be pretty dull, so I wonder if kicking the brain in the pants isn't a good thing after all. How much stimulation is ideal, and where do brains get pants anyway?

Tie breaker

2008-12-21T23:57:00.002-05:00

Last night was my company's Christmas party (one of the few companies in this economy to actually have a party), and I was the only one without a novelty holiday tie. It occurred to me that my sparse tie collection will probably drastically expand in the years to come, thanks to that festive occasion called Father's Day. I'll get a long, thin box, crudely wrapped, and will have to pretend that I don't know what it is, only to open it and be delightfully amazed at the tie shaped like a fish, or covered in leprechaun heads, or whatever.

Fortunately, the geniuses over at Think Geek have some pretty cool ties, such as the 8-Bit, Space Invaders, or, for big meetings and job interviews, the power tie.

The Wife will be stuck with the usual Mother's Day gift; breakfast in bed. If The Boy is in charge, she can expect to get burnt toast, soggy oatmeal, and spilled orange juice. On the bright side, I can buy her a titanium spork to make the meal more enjoyable.

pop goes the corn

2008-12-17T13:57:00.002-05:00

It's interesting to note that babies don't think 0f items just as items, but as part of an event. To them, everything has a purpose or history. Adults are similar--- you may remember fondly the day you purchased your coffee table, but for kids it's an integral part of that coffee table's existence.

Popcorn for The Boy, for example, isn't just something good to eat. It's also something popped in the air popper, which is loud and is kept on a very high shelf and the popcorn is usually only eaten when Mama isn't around so she doesn't see how much we make or how quickly we scarf it down.

We'll spend a good five minutes every time we come up from the basement talking about the light switch, which The Boy is allowed to turn off, unlike the switch above it which only Daddy can touch and controls the furnace, which is downstairs and is hot and loud and doesn't contain water but air and blows it all over the house. I've taken to avoiding going down there when my child is around, preferring to let The Cat starve until I get a chance to sneak down on my own to avoid the long series of gestures and monosyllabic words just to scoop food into her damn bowl.

Pie are square

2008-12-17T13:14:00.002-05:00

A few months ago, The Boy called anything sweet "cookah."

But then we read a gripping tale about a Monster of Cookies who, having run out of cookies, decides to bake more. Just when you think the story over, they throw you for a loop by revealing that the hero of the book bakes a pie as well!

For some reason, The Boy decided that this "pie" phenomenon was fascinating. I believe shortly after reading this book he had some pie, or maybe even a cake that resembled a pie, and decided that this was his new favorite word. So now everything sweet is called pie. Not a big deal, but he even calls cookies pie now. He refuses to utter the previous word, perhaps believing that he has grown beyond such childish treats. He's a man of the world now, and demands the finest of desserts. But it's still annoying when you hold up a cookie and hear him squeal, "PIE!"

Enunciate!

2008-12-12T22:21:00.002-05:00

I'm pretty sure I know how toddlers develop their language skills. At some point the parents give up trying to interpret each and every monosyllabic utterance and vague gesture and just shrug. The child, finally realizing that the cushy lifestyle is over, decides it's time to actually put two words together. I've gone from having a near telepathic link with my son to just looking at him blankly, and he's learned that if he wants to play with his Legos he'd better damn well learn how to say the word "Lego." (Not that he's learned to say it yet, but he's on his way.)

Don't drink the water

2008-11-23T20:55:00.002-05:00

A few months ago The Wife had a test done and found a long list of foods that she's sensitive/allergic to. Combine that with constant monitoring of what The Boy puts in his stomach and it's forced me to pay more attention to what affects me.

Self diagnosis doesn't come easy to anyone, but I suspect I'm more obtuse than others. It took me almost three decades to finally deal with my frequent stomach cramps (turns out I'm lactose intolerant) and it wasn't until recently that I admitted to having hay fever and am now enjoying clear sinuses via a daily Claritin. My latest revelation is the fact that not everyone's throat feels funny after eating a banana. It turns out that I have oral allergy syndrome, which is common in people with hay fever. It basically means that I need to give up some of my favorite fruits, which is God's way of foiling my half-hearted attempts at eating anything healthy.

What gets me, though, is how strong the symptoms are now that I'm aware of them. I've eaten bananas all my life and it never bothered me. Now I can't look at a fruit smoothie without feeling my throat constrict. At this rate I'll end up eating lentil soup and oatmeal every day, terrified of accidentally brushing up against an apple in case it causes instant organ failure.

Let's talk vomit!

2008-11-23T20:26:00.003-05:00

The Bubonic Plague just swept through my household (or maybe it was just a stomach virus) and we're finally all over it.

The hardest hit was The Boy, who would empty his stomach once or twice a day for about a week. It got to the point where we almost brought him to the doctor for some of that voodoo stuff you Earth people call "medicine," but he finally turned around and is back to being his normal evil self. I think the main reason it took him so long was because he refused to convalesce, preferring to run around and eat hamburgers right up to the point where he'd vomit into his shoes.

Feeling crappy is nature's way of telling you to relax for a while and let your body worry about invaders. But how do you explain to a two year old that he should rest and starve for a day? Hell, I was well into my thirties before I actually took that advice to heart. Fortunately, humans are durable enough to survive most stupidity when they're young, and for the extreme cases there are the Darwin Awards.

A person, place, or thing

2008-11-10T22:11:00.002-05:00

The Boy, in a burst of logic, has come to the conclusion that his name must be "You." He'll point to himself and say "You, You" when he wants something. (Actually, it sounds more like "noo," not to be confused with "foo" for food, "Moo" for his grandmother, and "poo" for... poo.

It's interesting because it makes me wonder when he'll grasp the concept of pronouns. He's seen people refer to others as "you" from time to time, so when does his brain click and he thinks, "oh, that word doesn't just refer to me. I shall wet my diaper in celebration!"

Currently he's more inclined to use what words he has for a spectrum of related subjects. All men seem to be "dada" and all women seem to be "mama," for example. Most treats seem to be "cookah" and, thanks to the neighborhood kids goofing off one day, all children are now monkeys.

Pirate vs. Ninja... postponed

2008-11-10T21:54:00.002-05:00

Well, we never did go trick-or-treating this year. It was a combination of laziness and missing the allocated hours.

Back in my day we went out in the pitch blackness and ran around town, heedless of cars or crazy people. Out in the country we also ran the risk of hungry bears, but that didn't stop my parents from dressing me up as a beehive and soaking me in honey every year. Heck, sometimes they didn't even wait for October, that's how much they loved Halloween.

Anyway, we dodged a bullet with the whole candy issue this time around. My boss just grabs handfuls from his kids' bags when they're not looking, confident that they won't notice, but that wouldn't work with The Boy. He's got a photographic memory when it comes to treats, and at any time knows exactly where every snack is in the house. Hopefully this talent will eventually cross over to more useful knowledge, like names and dates and Weird Al song lyrics, but until then we just have to do a better job at hiding the Oreos.

All Hallow's Eve

2008-10-24T21:44:00.003-04:00

Halloween is a big issue for parents trying to keep their kids on a health diet. I don't want to deprive my child of the joys of trick-or-treating, even if he's still too young to grasp subtle nuances of when it's appropriate to toilet paper someone's house, but the last thing I want a two year old to have is a bag full of processed sugar.

I've heard other parents talk about doling it out slowly over weeks, or trading them somewhat better snacks for their candy bars, or even just giving it all away to charities, but none of those options sounded appealing. I gave it some thought and came upon the perfect solution.

One of the biggest debates of our generation is who is cooler, pirates or ninjas. Now obviously, ninjas are far superior but how to convince my heir that the life of a pirate is not for him? So, while we're trick-or-treating, I'm going to hire someone to dress as a pirate and leap out of the bushes every time a homeowner starts to hand The Boy a piece of candy. He'll yell, "Ar, I be takin' that booty!" Then he'll snatch the snack and dash off. I'll shake my head sadly, console my crying and hysterical toddler, and say "you wouldn't catch a ninja doing something like that." We'll go home where someone dressed as a ninja will appear out of a puff of smoke and give him a bag of raisins and rice cakes.

Ninja baby

2008-10-19T21:28:00.003-04:00

One of the changes in The Boy's behavior, now that he's grasped the concept of good and bad, is how quiet he'll get when he's up to no good. You don't realize it at the time, but for a couple of years you become accustomed to the various stumbles, bumps, and babblings that emanate from your offspring.

But then they see a chair that would allow them to climb unto the kitchen table where Mom's purse is just lying around waiting for anybody to open and scatter the contents throughout the house and suddenly you hear all sounds stop. He is actually able to absorb sound waves nearby, like an audio event horizon, and that's when your instincts kick in and you go running to him faster than you ever did for the sounds of crashing or crying.

It's a wonderful system, and one I've used to my benefit from time to time. If you hear the absence of activity you can creep over to see what he's up to, and if it's harmless you know that he'll be focused on his sinister activity for a few minutes and you have time to sneak over to the kitchen to eat the last rice crispy treat.

Me, myself and I

2008-10-19T21:15:00.003-04:00

Recently The Boy pointed to something and then pointed to himself, indicating that he wanted me to give it to him. I didn't think much of it at the time, but later it occurred to me that this was the first time he's actually referred to himself. Up to this moment he's just pointed at things and expected us to know that he wanted it. Now he tries to make it plain that it's for him, or he's talking about himself.

I think it's a significant milestone for a toddler, realizing that not everything revolves around him 100% of the time and there are events that have nothing to do with him. (At most only 90% of the world revolves around him.)

What goes up...

2008-10-12T01:17:00.003-04:00

It's been interesting to observe The Boy's coordination over the years. Interestingly enough, fine motor skills came pretty quickly, to the point where I'm sure he could start cracking safes if The Wife would let me get some lock picks. (Stupid choking hazards interfering with me being a criminal mastermind.)

What's tricky for him are the bigger muscles. Walking took a while, and now the challenge is throwing things. It took him a long time just to grasp the concept, since it involves letting go of something, but even after that hurdle there's no way to determine where something will go flying to when it leaves his hand. It's made for some interesting (and painful) games of catch.

His latest thing is throwing something up in the air. He's gotten quite good at it, hitting his own head with an 80% success rating. It's funny when it's small stuff, like crayons or Legos, but every now and then he'll throw something with some heft to it and then it's no longer amusing... at least for him.

An almost perfect moment

2008-10-10T06:12:00.002-04:00

There are times when The Boy is a perfect angel. We'll get along great for hours, bonding over Lego blocks or playing on the bed. He's full of laughter and smiles and loves everything I say and do.

At some point he'll pause, come up to me, and stick out his arms. I'll reach down and pick him up and he'll wrap his little arms around my neck to give me an affectionate hug. I'll hug him back, squeezing him gently and feeling his little body next to mine. Then he'll lean in, as if to give me a kiss on the cheek, and softly whisper into my ear, "cookah."

There are times I rue the day that cookies were ever created.

The N-word

2008-09-30T15:28:00.002-04:00

"No," that is.

For most kids it's the first word they say, and they're quick to wear it into the ground. My child, on the other hand, learned how to say "yeah" pretty quickly. It's pretty darn cute but not as nice as you might think. Instead of saying "no" to doing something he doesn't want to do, he instead says "yeah" just before enthusiastically throwing a plate of food on the floor or charging into traffic. It also doesn't help in communication, either, since a typical conversation will go like this:

The Boy: Owe!
Me: What's owe? Your tummy?
The Boy: Yeah
Me: Your head?
The Boy: Yeah
Me: Your butt?
The Boy: Yeah
Me: Your spleen?
The Boy: Yeah
Me: Liar!

It's a dog's life

2008-09-30T15:27:00.003-04:00

A good way to annoy a parent is to listen to their amusing story about what their adorable child did yesterday and then reply, "Yeah, my dog does that too. It's pretty cute."

I thought once I joined the ranks of the spawning I too would become offended when someone compared my progeny to creatures that drool and roll around in dirt, but... there really is very little difference. In fact, probably the biggest difference is that dogs are much easier to train.

gift of gab

2008-09-25T22:10:00.003-04:00

When The Wife was pregnant she joined an online forum for mothers-to-be who were expecting around the same time. Two years later these women are still typing away a storm, despite the pressures of parenting as well as losing their original forum.

It occurred to me that men couldn't do that. Parenting is too loose and subjective. For men to communicate the little they do requires an understanding of the rules and how to follow/exploit them. All the topics men like to talk about, like sports, engine repair, or grilling a steak, can be reduced to a few simple rules and allow discussion of a subset of the universe. My own less-than-macho man hobbies, like computer and roleplaying games, are perfect examples of this. And these kinds of forums are filled with guys who will never shut up.

So to make a dad forum work, somebody needs to break down a baby into it's basic components (I mean metaphorically, you sick monkeys). A typical conversation could go something like this:

RoboDad: So, how's the new baby?

BroodFather: Eh, not bad. He's got a banana chassis and good cuteness rankings, but his colic rating is 3.7. My sleep quotient is pretty low.

RoboDad: Bummer, man. I hear dancing to the Bee Gees can lower the cry volume by 4.

BroodFather: ROFL

To the moon, Alice!

2008-09-20T20:55:00.003-04:00

With The Boy hitting the terrible twos it's pretty obvious where that phrase comes from. He's old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and will choose the dark side every time.

As an enlightened hippie dad I'm doing my best to do that "gentle discipline" crap, but it's hard. It's especially hard when the little punk looks at me and grins just before he does something that he knows will bug the heck out of me.

But so far I've been good. I figure the more physical I get with him, even if it's just grabbing and restraining him, will make him feel bullied and powerless and make him act out more. So I usually:

a) Talk to him calmly and explain as best I can why he shouldn't do something. "Don't touch the stove. It's hot and you'll get an ow."

b) Suggest an alternative activity. "Can you play with your blocks instead?"

c) Let him participate in a chore. He loves helping out, even if he's not that effective. "Can you carry this leaf over to the trash?"

d) Blatantly lie. "I think Momma has cookies."

So far it's worked pretty well. I still yell at him from time to time, or pull him away and prepare for a tantrum, but those are rare.

Usually I stay calm and mentally calculate at what age we'll be evenly matched physically and I can legitimately beat on him in a fair fight. I'm a big guy but it looks like he's going to be burly as well, so I'm thinking when I'm 54 and he's 18 I'll make him put on boxing gloves and we'll go toe-to-toe. If he's freakishly large or I feel past my prime I may jump him a year or two early.

Regardless of when, all the while I'll be shouting things like, "Stay away from the stove!" and "Why did you eat so many pebbles?! Why?!"

Birthday Bash

2008-09-08T21:39:00.002-04:00

Well, The Boy just turned two last week so we had an extravaganza. He's big into Sesame Street lately so we had a Cookie Monster theme for the party, which seemed a good idea until it was 9:00 at night and he was rolling around with an upset stomach shouting, "Cookah! Cookah!"

Speaking of Sesame Street, those guys can sure make some music. Simon doesn't watch a heck of a lot of TV, and probably doesn't really know the characters that well, but we put on their CD in the car and he's happy as a clam. I'd love to know why. Is it the simplicity? The clear vocals? I mean, a lot of my favorite music sounds like it was written by grade school kids as well (not that there's anything wrong with They Might Be Giants, but you gotta admit...) but for some reason he's only happy with those darn muppets.

I guess there's added value for him watching his parents rock out to "C is for Cookie" and "Rubber Ducky," but there's a limit to how entertained he can be by our goofiness.

Pedal power

2008-07-22T15:35:00.001-04:00

With the warm weather The Boy and I have been going on more bike rides, so I thought I should endorse the iBert safe-T-seat.

This is a child seat that actually attaches to the front of your bike, on the handlebars. It's a bit wacky, I know, but it's actually pretty cool. The child is right up there with you, he gets a better view, and it's actually easier to control because the extra weight is between your arms and not fishtailing behind you. Plus you get a lot of looks when you ride by.

It was a bit awkward at first trying to pedal, but I quickly learned to angle my knees outward a bit more and now I can bike along no problem. The only disadvantage is when The Boy and I wrestle for control of the brakes, but usually I win.

Secret shame

2008-07-18T21:54:00.000-04:00

All men have a terrible secret, and it's eating at me inside so much I can't live with the lie anymore.

Most of us, myself included, can't grill a hamburger.

Oh, we make a big show of it. We'll get the coals going or light up the propane. We'll mix up some patties and throw them down on the grill. But then we start to flounder. Are the flames too high? Not high enough? When do I flip? Dang, I should have put the chicken on first to give it more time to cook! What about the buns? Do I toast them on the top rack or will it make them dry?

It's not funny. Really. There are some things men are expected to know, like sports and engine repair, that we don't actually get any training for. I don't like sports and the only thing I know about engines is that 80% of the time it's a problem with the regulator, whatever the heck that means, but you'd think I could master something as simple as heating ground beef. But when you only do it a few times a year, and it's a do-or-starve situation, there's no time to learn. So your friends and family end up eating burnt hockey pucks, which is fine because anything tastes good with ketchup, and you can't help but wonder how sincere they are with their praise.

I blame high school for not broadening our education. The boys in shop class and the girls in home ec should have swapped rooms for a day. The boys could learn how to cook a decent burger and the girls could learn how to jump start a dead car battery.

School of Hard Knocks

2008-07-16T22:23:00.002-04:00

One of the biggest differences between men and women is how they deal with a child in danger. If the toddler climbs up on a chair the woman's first instinct is to rush over and get him down. The man's first thoughts are, "Hm, the carpeting is pretty thick in this room. If he falls down he probably won't get seriously injured, so maybe I'll just let him learn the hard way. Oops, The Wife is coming. Better pretend I only just noticed the kid dangling from one leg and rush over to help him."

My current lesson in adversity is the baby swing at the local park. It's low enough for The Boy to push away, and half the time it swings back hard enough to smack him in the face. The Wife would probably drag him away but my attitude is that the swing is light enough so it won't break his nose and this way he learns how to duck as well as Newton's laws of motion. He'll thank me one day when he gets his doctorate in physics. Or becomes a prizefighter.

Time flies

2008-07-16T22:10:00.002-04:00

Sheesh, I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), not much is happening with The Boy. He's a bit bigger, he's got "cooka" down pat, and we've taken to going to the local park after dinner each night. It means a later bedtime but that allows him and The Wife to sleep in a bit later in the morning. It's recommended by many people for us working dads.

And that's something I should bring up. After a year and a half of being a quasi house-dad I had to suck it up and get a real job. Unfortunately this means much less time with The Boy and that's a sad thing. One of my biggest regrets is losing out on his firsts, like the first time he masters a new word or the first time he learns how to hug.

But then it occurred to me that those things catch you by surprise anyway. Even when I was watching him all day I'd still be amazed when he did something for the first time, like walking or saying something. You still think, "Holy cow, just yesterday he was crawling around on all fours and now he's tap-dancing on the coffee table!"

So I still do regret the lost time, but we spend plenty of hours together during the week and there will be plenty of firsts that I'll get to see. And this way we can afford luxuries like food and rent.

Boot Camp

2008-06-15T20:52:00.003-04:00

I recently discovered an organization called Boot Camp for New Dads. It's a three hour class that introduces men to the joys of fatherhood and how to take care of a baby in their own way. They have classes all around the country and sounds like it's well worth the twenty-five bucks.

I can't vouch for the organization personally, but the principle I endorse. I've complained before about the lack of support for dads, and we men are wired differently than women so trying to imitate the mom is just going to lead to frustration. The best part of the class, though, is just giving men confidence. Ninety percent of good parenting is following your instincts, so the best thing for a dad-to-be is watching other fathers in action and realizing that it ain't rocket science.

Mama on the brain

2008-06-10T20:24:00.001-04:00

It's one thing to refer to your wife as "Mama" when around the kid, but you know it's bad when you start using the word to refer to her in your own head. Or even worse, to other people.

Ninja Dad

2008-05-30T08:25:00.002-04:00

We've moved into a new place, one with actual storage space and a significant lack of cigarette stench. But the best thing about it is the absence of squeaking floors. In the old place, you couldn't even think about going upstairs without the boards squeaking like you were tap-dancing on mice.

In the new place, though, it's deathly silent. The first night there, sneaking upstairs without waking up The Boy or The Wife, was a snap. I ghosted though the rooms like a Ninja Dad, which is far fetched because we all know how hard it is for ninjas to procreate.

Out of the mouths of babes

2008-05-29T09:23:00.001-04:00

The other day we were at a restaurant and Kristin left the table for a moment. When we saw her coming back I said, "here comes Mama" and Simon actually responded with "Mama."

Now, Simon's been saying "mama" and "dada" for over a year now, but they've really just been random noises that he's figured out how to produce. This was the first time he's actually said something on command, so I leaned forward and said, "now say Dada." He replied with "Dada."

Fearing it was just a fluke, I repeated the requests for Mama and Dada a few more times and he repeated them on cue. By the time Kristin sat back down at the table my face was three inches from Simon's and we were having a very involved discussion consisting of only two words.

I experimented with a few more words that I know he's familiar with but there's not much success yet. Kitty comes out as "tee" and doggy, lamp, and truck get the default response of "da." Other words, like "isosceles," get a blank look, almost as if he doesn't understand.

priorities

2008-05-28T01:41:00.002-04:00

There are moments in your life when you realize with horror that you are growing up. For me, the first time was when I was a teenager and had an actual adult conversation with my mother. Another time was when I was happy to get socks for Christmas.

We recently moved to a new place, and usually for me the computer is the last thing to pack and the first thing to reassemble. This time, however, the poor computer had to wait in line behind the kitchen so I could make Simon oatmeal and yams, the washer and dryer so I could wash dirty diapers, and his toys so he could have something to play with. It's three days later and I'm finally getting around to plugging the computer in, after a full day of work, cleaning, and unpacking.

To make matters worse, instead of playing some World of Warcraft I'm wasting time writing a fathering blog!

Viva Las Vegas!

2008-05-09T22:38:00.003-04:00

Vegas is all about food, shows, and hocking your wife's earrings for one more shot at the blackjack table. (Double down, baby!) Unfortunately, unless you can waste a thousand bucks on cab fare you're going to be doing a lot of walking.

Spending a few days traveling made me appreciate baby carriers all the more. While the other parents were wrestling with their strollers to get in and out of doorways, deal with escalators, or maneuver through crowds, Simon and I would just walk around free as you please. For quick trips we'd use the sling, for longer walks we'd use the mei tai, and both of these easily fit into our suitcase so we didn't have to worry about a stroller getting lost or damaged. Not to mention the fact that Simon was nice and high and got to see plenty of action (he's a big fan of trucks and buses nowadays) whereas all those poor kids in strollers just looked bored. I'm betting there'd be big business in Las Vegas (or any tourist town) for parents fed up with wheeling their child around.

Plus you're less likely to hock a sling for one more shot at the blackjack table.

A good idea down the toilet

2008-05-09T22:18:00.002-04:00

Recently the little woman and I had to travel to Las Vegas for a few days. If it was a shorter trip or we had easy access to a washing machine we'd bring the cloth diapers along, but instead we thought we'd give gDiapers a try since we're supposed to be diaper experts and have never used them.

Now the theory is good; Make a diaper that is more convenient than cloth but not as environmentally unfriendly as disposables. There's a cover holding in an absorbent pad that dissolves in water. You rip the pad in half, dump it in the toilet, swish it around a bit to break it up, then flush.

Unfortunately it's somewhat lacking in execution, especially when bowel movements are involved. The flushable pad can't keep in the mess, so the covers get pretty gross. The pads also don't dissolve very quickly so you're stuck stirring a toilet full of poop forever. In theory you can simply throw the pad in the trash but there's no good way to bundle up the pad so, again, you're in trouble if the pad is particularly messy. I was only mildly annoyed with the system while we were in our hotel room, but dealing with a diaper change in the airport restroom was a nightmare.

Halfway through our stay I ran out and bought some disposables. Not my proudest moment, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Peer Pressure

2008-04-21T20:06:00.003-04:00

One thing I'm finding harder and harder is to not compare Simon to other kids his own age. It seems like little punks two months younger than he is are reciting ballads and dancing on Broadway while my kid is still stuffing things up his nose and sitting in his own feces. I have to remind myself that these kinds of deadlines are completely arbitrary, and learning something early in life doesn't necessarily mean you're better at it.

The biggest concern for me right now is language development. Most kids Simon's age have a few words down but Simon shows no interest. He can say "mama" and "dada" but I think it's mostly at random. What kills me, though, is that he obviously is really good at understanding what you're saying. You can say "laundry" and he'll run over to the laundry room, or "upstairs" and he'll go to the stairs, or "punching bag" and he'll go over to the cat, but he shows no interest in trying to vocalize those sounds himself.

I've noticed in him an indifference in mimicking other people, which is unusual for a baby. He rarely makes noises when I do, and the only hand sign I've been able to teach him effectively is the one for a snack called Veggie Booty. (It shows a pirate on the bag, so I taught him to cover one eye with his hand like an eye patch.)

Anyway, I know I shouldn't be concerned. He's developing fine, and any skill that he was a bit behind in he mastered in record time when he finally figured it out. Plus there are plenty of kids I've seen who aren't as advanced as him, so at least he can feel superior to those losers.

Potty mouth

2008-03-26T16:07:00.003-04:00

Speaking of food, the adventures of potty training are such a joy.

When a baby starts eating solids he gets very constipated for a week or two. (All the more reason to start with high fiber fruits like pears.) This means he probably won't want to do bowel movements in his diaper so this is an excellent opportunity to try out some early potty training. If you can time it right you can drop the diaper and get him to a potty in time, and this'll encourage him to keep at it.

I tried that with Simon and had pretty good success. Instead of a small potty I put him on the toilet, thinking I could skip a step and make him act like a Big Boy. Unfortunately, when winter came the bathroom got pretty darn cold and he decided he'd had enough of sitting on a freezing piece of porcelain. So now we're back to stinky diapers, and every time I stick him on a shiny new plastic potty it remains woefully shiny.

Simon's Paradox

2008-03-25T13:05:00.002-04:00

Here's a derivation of Zeno's Paradox:

If Simon is given a piece of toast, he will break it into two equal pieces and drop one piece. The remaining piece will then be broken into two pieces and the cycle will continue. Logic dictates that Simon will never run out of toast, since he always holds onto a piece of it.

Zeno used these paradoxes to show that motion is nothing more than an illusion, using logical steps to demonstrate the impossible. Simon's Paradox is easy to refute, since observation will show that not only will Simon eventually run out of toast, but that he will then hide most of the discarded pieces under the couch.

mesh feed me, seymour!

2008-03-21T12:14:00.002-04:00

Speaking of starting on solids, I don't do too many product endorsements but one item I swear by is the Baby Safe Feeder. Simon couldn't quite grasp the whole "let spoon get in mouth" thing at first but he loved chewing on the feeder after I stuffed it with mashed-up fruit. The site is pretty ugly, and the guy is a little too emphatic about how your child is doomed if you don't use a feeder, but the product is great.

Food: The secret killer!

2008-03-21T11:44:00.003-04:00

We got lax with the whole food allergy thing with Simon, so now we're clueless when he gets stuffy or has stomach issues. The whole food allergy thing can become a real pain in the butt, so if you're about to start your baby on solids it's best to do it right.

First, start with the least allergenic foods, like avocado (good for fats) and pears (good for fiber). Dr. Sears has a good list of most and least allergenic foods out there, which you can follow if you like. I'd also suggest giving your child the new food early in the day so if there is a serious reaction you can reach your pediatrician easily. Also, people recommend eating the food for four days to get a good idea of the reaction.

You can find all these suggestions online easily enough. What I strongly recommend, though, is putting thought into the order you introduce new foods. It's one thing when you're just starting out and giving him plain fruit or oatmeal, but once he's snacking on crackers and mooching off your plate in the restaurant there's no freaking way to be 100% sure why he's suddenly vomiting on your lap. Just looking at the ingredients in my wife's Triscuits reveals seven potential culprits, and that's not even including the enigmatic "spices" they have listed.

So do dairy early on, because Americans can't prepare anything without putting butter or cream in it. Start with butter, then milk, then some cheese. Another common ingredient is gluten, so carefully give that a try. Wheat is the next thing to test, plus eggs (do white and yolk separately). And don't even think of getting Chinese for dinner until you test for soy and MSG.

Again, there's no need to cram all this stuff down your child's throat right away. If you want to keep his meals simple for a while that's great, but if you're like me and give in to his demands to share your omelet and home fries you'd better know what you're getting into.

He can't be old, he's my age!

2008-03-05T15:50:00.002-05:00

One of the interesting things about online comics is a lot of them are done by people my own age. Not only do they have similar tastes, but they've also started spawning babies around the same time I did and that sometimes sneaks into their comics. The Penny Arcade guys both have kids and they often give anecdotes in their podcast. Plus Sluggy Freelance recently did a funny crossover spoof between a popular children's book and a popular sci-fi show. If I had more artistic ability I'd dump this blog and do a fatherhood/World of Warcraft/D&D comic instead.

Soylent green is Mattel!

2008-03-05T15:29:00.003-05:00

One great regret is the fact that kids don't immediately get sick of a toy, they just play with it less and less until it's years later and your wife digs it out of a pile and gives it to a friend's new bundle of joy.

I'd rather it be a big ceremony. I want Simon to come up to me with, for example, his Animal Merry-Go-Round and inform me that he has outgrown it. I then accept the toy with a bow, take it out to the back yard, and smash it repeatedly with a sledgehammer while listening to its annoying "animals, animals, round and round we go!" turn into an electric scream before being silenced forever. I would probably add to the ceremony by shouting something like, "Shut up! Shut the hell up! I'm never going to hear your stupid number song ever again!"

Then, I respectfully dispose of the remains in the trash bin and carry it out to the curb.

A dark day for gamers

2008-03-04T13:51:00.003-05:00

My grandfather was a rare but larger than life presence in my world. Tall, thin and tough as nails, he was the quintessential New Englander; getting up with the sun to milk the cows or go deer hunting before spending the day haying and cutting wood. He was gruff, vocal on many subjects, and chewed tobacco. He was a voracious reader, too, with a large library of history and reference books. Since I was a quiet, nerdy homebody who usually hated our visits to the farm, you can imagine we didn't have a lot in common. When he died the thing I regretted most was not getting to know him better when I had the chance.

Gary Gygax died today.

While not a blood relative, he reminds me of my grandfather because he co-created Dungeons and Dragons and is considered the father of the role-playing game. Mention his name to some people and they'll get a far-away look in their eyes, remembering all the times their half-elf warrior opened a door to find 20 orcs in a 10'x10' room. His presence is felt in every game out there, and I can't imagine how my favorite hobby would look today if it wasn't for him.

I do have to confess, though, that for me it's not as great a blow as it should be. Living out in the sticks I never really played D&D as a kid. My first real experience with gaming was Gamma World in college, then Call of Cthulhu. I didn't really play D&D until third edition, well after Mr. Gygax had lost the reigns. But he was a giant in the field, and I'll feel sorrow for his passing as well as regret for not knowing him better.

misery loves company

2008-02-29T22:16:00.002-05:00

One of my best discoveries lately is DadLabs. It's a bunch of fathers who put together "informative" videos about being a dad. It's pretty low budget and the humor can sometimes fall flat, but on the whole it's a very enjoyable thing to watch. You can't find many parenting guides that call kids "evil little badger children" or hold interviews in bars.

My two complaints are: first, their main advertiser is BabyBjorn and I'm not a big fan of their baby carriers. Second, their website is poorly laid out. There doesn't seem to be an easy way to watch old episodes and sometimes you can get two movies on one page, both automatically playing. Shame! Fortunately a lot of their clips are also available on youtube and are much easier to navigate.

double whammy

2008-02-29T19:44:00.003-05:00

Two big boosts for the anti-vaccination crowd lately.

The first is the news that the government has conceded a vaccine-autism case in the Court of Federal Claims. An 18 month old girl went in for her shots and quickly came down with diseases and setbacks that resulted in symptoms of autism. Turns out, though, it wasn't autism but a mitochondrial disorder that acts exactly like autism. It also seems to be around 10% to 20% of the 4,900 vaccine-autism cases currently in court. Now that precedence has been set, most of those will probably be winners and that's going to mean big bucks doled out in compensation. The Vaccine Injury Compensation Program has already paid out $1.5 billion to those who agreed not to sue the government for saving their children from the ravages of disease at the cost of... injury or death, I wonder if these new cases will be paid out of the $2.1 billion they've still got in their piggy bank.

In a way this might be good news, though. If it's possible, either now or in the future, to detect this latent mitochondrial disorder before vaccinations then that could save a lot of families quite a bit of heartache.

The second interesting tidbit is an independent study showing a significantly higher percentage of autism in vaccinated kids. What amazes me most, though, is the fact that this is the first study relating to this question that's ever been done. How is this possible? I mean, when I first heard of the possibility that vaccinations can cause autism my first question was, "Can you back it up with numbers? What are the percentages?" And these people spent a mere $200,000 to get those numbers, using a phone survey very similar to the one used by their arch nemesis, the Centers for Disease Control itself.

This survey isn't perfect, though, and doesn't really point a finger at vaccinations specifically. Rather, it indicates families who vaccinate are more likely to have autistic children. There are plenty of other environment factors that could contribute. Does the child eat more preservatives? Does he watch more television? Does he live in a high pollution neighborhood? Was he bottle fed as an infant?

A fully comprehensive survey could help point scientists in the right direction in determining the cause of autism, whatever it might be.

Memory is the first thing to go

2008-02-24T13:58:00.002-05:00

We went to visit my brother and his family recently, and at one point he expressed his amazement at how much work it took to keep Simon out of trouble. I gave him a funny look and mentioned that with two kids of his own he went through the same thing more than once, but he just shrugged and said most of that time is just a blur to him now.

That does seem to be a survival mechanism in our species. If we truly remembered how big a pain kids can be then I doubt anybody would have more than one. Instead, after a couple of years our brains start telling us that babies are great and having another one would be really cool. My theory is that the body gets used to the stress and sleep deprivation. Once your child is old enough to be less maintenance and you finally get a full night's sleep the brain, which has been subsisting solely on endorphins up to this point, gets euphoric and starts equating babies with feeling good.

So there's a chance that in a year or two my wife will turn to me and say, "We should have another baby, now that Simon is so easy." Fortunately I've conditioned myself to react to this by bursting into tears, running out the door, and driving to Mexico.

Adios

The Force is strong in this one

2008-02-23T09:03:00.002-05:00

The other day Simon was rummaging around my nightstand and pulled out a flashlight. He held it up in both hands and made a very impressive imitation of a lightsaber, despite never having seen a Star Wars movie.

Now I'm not saying that he's destined to become a jedi, I'm just saying that if he does, then I hope it pays well. I'm actually somewhat against it, since it doesn't seem to be a good career for a family man and I expect lots of grandkids.

A shot in the arm

2008-02-20T19:37:00.002-05:00

My wife recently showed me an anti-vaccination ad. It's pretty bold, with visuals making a strong link between vaccinations and autism even though they admit there's currently no evidence proving such a thing. My wife thought the ad was great, claiming that if pro-vaccination groups can use unproven emotional statements like, "outbreaks still occur each year because some babies are not immunized" then we can fight fire with fire.

To me, this is just adding fuel to the fire. We don't know what causes autism, and even though pumping toxins into an infant's bloodstream may be a pretty likely contributor we shouldn't go making false accusations. Instead, how about doing something crazy like demanding that vaccinations be put through the same kind of rigorous tests that any other medicine goes through? How about both sides agree on some case studies and put money into doing them right? Call me crazy, but I'd love to get a few more actual facts.

Do the locomotion

2008-02-08T20:24:00.002-05:00

Whoever said that you need to learn how to crawl before you learn how to walk has never seen a baby. This is the actual progression:

1. Slacker Months - He isn't much for moving on his own, but that's okay because these suckers do all the work for him. He wants a toy? It's there! Milk? Bam, a boob is in his face! Sure, he misses out on some of the good stuff but there's time for that later.

2. Teleportation - You suspect that he can crawl, but if he sees you watching then it's easier for him to just cry until you pick him up. If there's something nearby that he knows you don't want him to have, though, you'll turn around to see that your inert child has magically gotten three feet closer to your antique knife collection. He will then look up at you and cry, pretending all he wants is a teething ring.

3. Crawling - Once you catch him in the act a few times he'll finally admit to crawling and then there's no stopping him. Time to put up the baby gates and apologize to the pets in advance for the years of abuse they are about to receive.

4. Cruising - This is the term for when a baby can stand with help but has to lunge from object to object in order to move, and it's really funny to watch. The several seconds of psyching up, followed by the look of horror when he's in mid-lunge, and finally the relief and joy when he gets to his destination in one piece is well worth recording.

5. Running - Technically, the way the moon orbits the Earth is by traveling forward at the same rate as it descends, so its speed ensures that it continually avoids crashing down. This is the same for babies once they let go of their props. Leaning forward with a frantic moving of the legs is the only way they can stay upright as well as moving forward.

6. Walking - It's not until they can master the run do babies get the whole 'walking' thing under control. For girls this happens fairly quickly, for boys it's around age 14.

Clothes make the baby

2008-02-08T20:09:00.001-05:00

Baby clothing is the bane of my existence. Everything is either too big, too small, or too ugly.

It was easy for the first year or so when we didn't socialize, especially during the warm weather when he could just hang out in a onesie. We'd go visit other parents and their kid would be in a tuxedo but ours would have a barrel with suspenders. Unfortunately, now that he's out and about more often it's getting hard to stay on top of what fits and how it looks, and though I know nothing about fashion I am able to predict how much my wife will complain about whatever outfit I cobble together each day.

The exception to this rule is that one piece of clothing that always seems to fit, probably made from unstable molecules. You put it on him when he's four months and it fits fine, then a year later you put it on him again and realize that he's doubled in size but this thing still covers his Buddha belly.

Nighttime reading

2008-01-25T21:32:00.000-05:00

The odds are good that you'll be up all night with a sick child at some point, so you'd better decide on some way to pass that time now. If you're like me, then you've got a video game or three that you wouldn't mind spending countless hours playing but even the most exciting of these will start to blur at around three in the morning.

So I suggest online comic strips. They're a favorite pastime of mine and are well worth getting into. Unfortunately, a lot of the better ones have been going on for years and contain a billion plot lines. So what better time to catch up on the archives than with eight sleepless hours?

Sluggy Freelance is my all time favorite. It's funny, got decent artwork, and the guy can spin a good yarn. The early strips are a bit rough but things get better pretty quickly. There are a lot of fantasy and sci-fi spoofs sprinkled in between stories of dimensional/time travel, demonic possession, video games, and heavy drinking. With ten years of daily updates it'll keep you amused for hours.

Schlock Mercenary is another good one and should appeal to the sci-fi fans. It's about a team of space mercenaries and has a gallows humor to it. Plus the writer likes to lecture on physics in his blog area.

Funny Farm is a boarding house full of eccentric characters. The humor is consistently funny and the artist is good at actually updating on a daily basis.

Player vs. Player is about a bunch of people who work for a gaming magazine. A fair amount of the content is about computer games but there's plenty of other stuff in there.

Girl Genius is originally a comic book by the brilliant Phil Foglio, and he's posting a page of it at a time online. The artwork is great, the jokes are funny, and it's steampunk!

Order of the Stick is an excellent D&D comic. It should be required reading for anyone who plays. A mere 500+ strips in the archive, but they are much bigger than the standard three or four panels so it should take a fair amount of time to go through them all.

Penny Arcade is mostly about two guys and video games. I'm really out of the loop with the gaming industry so some of the jokes escape me, but it's still a funny strip. (Not appropriate for the young'uns, though, what with the bad language.) This is the comic that got me through three nights of Simon's roseola so I'm forever in its debt. If you're still daunted by the thought of catching up on years of plot hooks then this one is ideal, since it contains very few hooks to plot.

Roll for initiative

2008-01-22T16:47:00.000-05:00

Simon's pretty fussy lately and a lot of Kristin's online mom friends are having the same complaints. It's always a crap shoot trying to determine what the culprit may be, unfortunately. Is he just gassy? Is it an ear infection? Is he allergic to gluten? My god, what if it was the yams?!

So to help myself out I created this handy table. These tables are pretty common in roleplaying games, determining what kind of wandering monster attacks you or what kind of treasure you find in the dragon's cave. I figured if it's good enough for gamers, it's good enough for me!

You need to roll a twenty-sided die (or D20, as we say in the 'biz') and add any relevant bonuses. Then you consult the handy chart.

Bonuses:
+1 - Tugs his ear
+1 - Drools a lot
+1 - Has a fever up to 104
+2 - Has a fever of 105 or more
+2 - Has a rash
+5 - Rotates his head 360 degrees
+1 - Cries a lot
+5 - Speaks in an eerie voice, possibly in tongues
+2 - Spits up more frequently
+5 - Vomits pea soup at priests

Chart:

2 - 5 : Most likely teething. Give him iced food and toys to chew on.
6 - 10 : Gas. Use gripe water and feed bland foods for a while.
10 - 14 : Food allergy. Cut back on his diet and introduce new foods gradually.
15 - 19 : Roseola. A benign childhood disease, should go away after about three days.
20 - 35 : Demonic possession. Call a young priest and an old priest.
36+ : Ear infection.

table scraps

2008-01-19T14:18:00.000-05:00

For dinner I usually make a meal out of whatever Simon won't eat. Last night it was three spoonfuls of oatmeal, the skin of a pear, and the remains of chicken and rice. It depressed me to think that my diet now consists of things my mother throws onto her compost pile.

Monsters, Inc.

2008-01-18T20:57:00.000-05:00

I wondered if it was possible to raise a child to not know what monsters were. Could someone grow up without believing there was something under the bed or hidden in the closet? Well, the other day I noticed that it took very little effort to convince Simon he was being chased. And I have to admit that, despite my plan to refrain from playing the boogie man, it was impossible to keep myself from growling and shambling after him.

Young predators often use play to practice their hunting skills. Those adorable lion cubs may look so precious as they roll around on the ground, but that just leads to harder stuff, like chasing down gazelles and mauling hikers. Humans, unfortunately, don't fall into the "predator" category. Before we mastered things like clubs, spears, and automatic weapons we were pretty much useless in a fight, so we have millions of years of evolution telling us to get the heck out of the way of anything with teeth as large as our forearms. It's only natural that our young instinctively run from us as we growl and chase after them.

As an intellectual exercise, imagine if lions evolved to the point where they established a movie industry. There would be no horror films. Even though there are bigger animals around, lions have been the meanest things in their neck of the woods for a long time, so they'd have no concept of monsters. There would be no Godzilla, or alien invaders, or an evil clown terrorizing a small Maine town. And their kids wouldn't be afraid of the dark. Tell one of them that there's something under their bed and they'd be crawling under there in a shot with a meat tenderizer.

So I guess I'll let Simon learn about monsters, but I'll also teach him how to exploit their weaknesses. The ones under the bed, for instance, are powerless against blankets. A flashlight beam will scare off the ones in the closet, and I'm already working on rules for playing Zombie Attack. No tool-using son of mine is going to be monster chow.

What's in a name?

2008-01-17T20:36:00.000-05:00

Okay, new dads, time for a preemptive strike. I'm talking about what the baby's toys are named. You may not care right now, but months later you're going to get sick of calling his stuffed rabbit "Mr. Poopsie Woopsie." And I dare you to use that name in a crowded restaurant in front of your friends and that smirking waitress.

The rules are simple. First, it would be nice if the name had something to do with the toy in question, like "Ursa Major" for a teddy bear or "Ringworld" for a chew ring. Make sure it's catchy enough for your wife to use but be sure it's not too over the top or she'll put her foot down.

Here are a few I made up as we acquired them:

Squeaking duck - Mallard, the foul-mouthed duck
Double-loop chew ring - The Infinity Loop
Stuffed turtle - Great A'Tuin
Complicated toy with connecting dowels and beads - The Toy From the Eighth Dimension (You have to say it like the narrator from a 1950s sci-fi movie.)
Plastic chew ring with large bumps on it - The Nodule Ring (This is when Kristin revoked my naming privileges.)

I suppose if you're into sports or racing or other boring stuff you could use athlete's names. When Simon is old enough to get into teddy bears and action figures I'll probably give them names of scientists and have them fight:

Einstein: "Ach, zere cannot be quantum fluctuations because God does not play dice vit ze universe."
Heisenberg: "You fool, Einstein! I'm going to uze mein wavefunction punch to zmack your quantum head!"
Einstein: "My Macro Universe Gun vill give you a taste of Newton's laws of motion!"

The 'V' word

2008-01-14T22:59:00.000-05:00

There's a growing concern out there about vaccinations causing more harm than good. Unfortunately this seems to be a topic that ranks up there with religion and politics when it comes to conversations that you shouldn't have, because there are many impassioned people on both sides who focus more on feelings than facts.

A lot of this is based on fear. Mainstream parents don't want to hear that these magical elixirs may cause some serious damage, nor do they like the thought of their doctors lying to them about it. On the other side of the fence, a growing number concerned parents feel trapped in a system that essentially forces them to inject toxins into their children. The medical profession doesn't help matters by refusing to perform any kind of serious studies on the matter. Vaccinations are remarkably easy to get passed through, and the long-term effects are unfortunately not known.

I really wanted to write up a comprehensive, well-researched posting about this but discovered that Alan Phillips had beaten me to it. I'll do some summing up, not just of him but also a few other sources I've read.

The basic premise of mainstream America is, "Vaccinations keep my child from getting a serious illness."

Well, that's not really true. What happens is that a weakened or dead strain of a virus is injected into your child's bloodstream, where his immune system learns to combat it. Nice in theory, but somewhat lacking in execution.

First, there's no guarantee that it works, with up to a 50% failure rate. Second, there's actually a chance that the vaccination will give your child the disease in question. Third, your immune system eventually forgets how to defend against the weakened strain so you are vulnerable again in six to ten years, and many diseases (like mumps and measles) are much more serious when you get them later in life. Fourth, there's no real evidence that they prevent epidemics. Countries with no vaccination policies have shown similar drops in illnesses, due largely to improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Polio was already on the decline before the vaccine was introduced, and in fact it made a big comeback in the years immediately following the vaccinations.

Okay, so even if they don't do much why not get them? There are some serious reasons.

First is all the stuff that's injected into your child's bloodstream along with that weakened virus. There can be animal and human tissue (including fetal cells) as well as preservatives such as mercury, formaldehyde, and/or aluminum. There has been no serious study about what this can do to a developing brain, especially one that gets subjected to these toxins a dozen times or more over the course of a couple years. (Or even longer, if more states follow New Jersey's lead and make annual flu shots mandatory.)

The second reason was mentioned earlier. Your child only gets a temporary immunity from the vaccine (assuming it works at all or doesn't actually give your child the disease in question). This means they (and we) are vulnerable to exposure later in life and some of these diseases are much more dangerous to adults than children. People like to blame unvaccinated kids for causing epidemics but the odds are good they got it from a vaccinated friend, and passed it along to older kids who have outgrown their immunity. There's a reason people have pox parties.

The third reason is the fact that the pharmaceutical companies often stick more than one virus in a shot, even as many as three, in the belief that your child is scrappy enough to handle it. There has been some question as to whether or not this is a good thing, naturally.

Finally, there is the question of how serious is the threat of these diseases. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have a weekly pdf download that shows how many cases have been reported. Last year, for example, saw 31 cases of measles in a population of 300 million.

So there you have it. At best vaccinations are a short-term solution to an immediate problem, like if you're traveling to Africa or there is an actual epidemic, but other than that they're just crippling the population's long-term resistance to diseases and potentially causing neurological damage to infants and children.

What's up, Doc?

2008-01-14T21:45:00.000-05:00

I've expressed my concerns about the qualifications and honesty of the medical profession, but that's not to say all doctors are bad. We have an excellent pediatrician for baby Simon, for example, but finding him was slow and painful.

It all started in the spring of ought-seven, when Simon didn't seem to be gaining much weight. We took him to a local pediatrician who was recommended to us and, after waiting 45 minutes past our appointment time, we finally got to see her. She poked and prodded Simon for a while and didn't seem concerned, then consulted her Nestlé growth chart and determined he was dying. (Nestlé makes baby formula, as you probably know, and so is naturally an unbiased judge of how much a baby should eat.)

Now, Simon was small but seemed perfectly healthy. He was active, social, and had a chubby face. He had none of the indications of malnutrition or being underfed, like lethargy or loose skin, and the doctor showed no concern whatsoever until she looked at the chart. She started talking about supplementing with rice milk, which has no nutritional value, and said she wanted to see him again in a few days to make sure he had gained. She blew off our (true) statement that breastfed babies tend to weigh less than formula fed ones, and obviously had no thoughts on alternatives to rice cereal or formula, which are essentially junk food for infants.

We walked out of the office and I glanced at my wife, expecting to see her in tears. She was eerily quiet on the walk to the car, and I finally asked her how she was doing. She just smiled and said she had tuned the doctor out completely after a while.

Obviously we wanted a second opinion. Kristin brought Simon to a lactation expert she knew and, once again, the woman thought Simon was fine until she actually put him on the scale and consulted a chart. Her concerns carried more weight, since it came from someone who strongly advocated breastfeeding, but it still annoyed us that she ignored all the physical indications of a healthy baby as soon as she looked on a chart.

In an act of desperation we decided to visit someone two hours away, who was recommended by someone in the Holistic Moms Network. This guy did the usual poking and prodding of our child, then put him on the scale and said he was fine. He assured us that if Simon was ill then it would be obvious from physical signs, and said that he was just a slow grower. Then, and this was the point when I wanted to hug him, he started rattling off recent case studies of breastfed babies and giving us facts and figures. He had been the only one we'd seen up to this point who seemed to know more than the bare minimum to do their job. He also wasn't as devoted to the "cover your ass" brand of medicine and actually gave us his personal opinions on several medical matters.

We still go to this doctor for wellness visits despite our attempts to find someone closer. I guess the moral of the story is if you don't like your doctor for any reason then keep on looking. Don't be afraid to read up on issues that concern you and ask questions during the physicals. Demand more than cookie-cutter medicine for your child.

Holistic quandary

2008-01-12T14:12:00.000-05:00

Recently I mentioned to a friend that Simon got burned on his hand so we brought him to the emergency room. My friend seemed surprised that I'd agree to that, being holistic and all. I'm not sure what his image of my life is like, but apparently it involves sitting in a mud hut and applying leeches to suck out the demons.

To be honest I'm not even sure holism is the best way to describe my philosophy. In my opinion health boils down to one fact; the human body is a complex organism that as been designed by billions of years of evolution to be treated a certain way. This means getting plenty of exercise (hunting and gathering), eating the right foods (vegetables, grains, and whatever you can hunt down with a stick), and getting plenty of rest (sleep when it's dark).

I have a great deal of respect for modern medicine, which strives to understand the body and treat problems when they arise. I don't, unfortunately, have much respect for modern doctors. Most of them learn the bare minimum in order to get their degree, then slack off on keeping up to date with the latest medical knowledge and make deals with multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical companies. They don't care much for preventative treatments and just jump right into pumping you with drugs. The majority of people don't think twice about this, thinking that any medicine is good medicine, but we don't really know the long-term implications of most of this stuff.

A good analogy, at least for me, would be a programmer dealing with a million line computer program. If you just start tweaking code willy-nilly in order to fix a bug then you're in trouble. If I tried that, instead of putting effort into determining the root cause of the problem and making the minimal amount of change necessary, I wouldn't last long in my job.

Stroller? I don't even know her!

2008-01-08T11:20:00.000-05:00

The best investments we made for little Simon were baby carriers. These are slings or packs that hold the baby so you can walk around with him and not kill your arms and back. Simon spent the first year in one and I think it's really helped. The constant contact has helped him become secure in his surroundings and he's very social because he's been up at face level so people talk to him more. My wife and I love carriers so much, in fact, that we opened a store to sell them. You can get them online but it's so much better to see them in person and try them on.

The most basic kind of carrier is a pouch sling. It's quick to slide on and off, and lets newborns get up close and personal. It can also be used to discretely nurse. Another kind of sling is the ring sling, which allows you more freedom in adjusting. If you want to get something online or for a gift then this is a good one to go with, since the pouch sling is a lot more strict with sizing.

The pack carriers, which let you hold the baby on your chest or back, come in two types. The first is a mei tai (pronounced may tie) and is a square of fabric with four straps that you tie around yourself. These are great for carrying the baby for longer periods, since it distributes the weight over both shoulders and the waist. I also like using them during winter, since you can bundle yourself and your baby up in the same coat so you always know how warm he is. The other kind of pack carrier is the soft structured carrier, which replaces the straps with buckles. This allows it to be put on a bit quicker, but makes it a pain to adjust if you share the carrier with someone else.

The Baby Bjorn (pronounced baby byorn) is a popular brand but I don't care for them. They don't have the waist strap, so all the weight is on your shoulders and that can get painful after a while, especially when the kid gets a bit bigger.

There's no ultimate carrier that does everything. I use a ring sling for around the house and quick shopping trips. I use a mei tai for hikes, walks around town, and dancing the baby to sleep. In fact, the mei tai more than paid for itself the other night when Simon got a fever and was fussy for hours. I put him in, and got him to sleep, then quietly sat down at the computer and spent a while online. Without the carrier I would have either had to hold him for hours or continually put him down and pick him up every time he woke up.

Speaking of sleeping...

2008-01-08T10:55:00.000-05:00

One of the hardest things for a father is getting the baby to sleep. Moms have a biological advantage going for them (boobs, of course) but men have to get creative. We each develop our own tricks, whether it's dancing around, patting the baby on the back, or making a dark pact with Satan. One advantage we have over the weaker sex are lower voices. If you're lucky enough to get down to the baritone range then you can put that baby on your chest or shoulder and do some crooning. And I'm not talking normal lullabies, either. I mean any song that's slow and methodical, like "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day or "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. (Actually, there's a pretty cool lullaby album out there of Green Day songs.)

My practice is to hold the baby and dance around while playing my own version of a lullaby album:

The Guitar (The Lion Sleeps Tonight) - They Might Be Giants
Circles - Soul Coughing
Wait for Me - Stephen Jay
Bouncing Around the Room - Phish
Spiraling Shape - They Might Be Giants
My Man - They Might Be Giants
Certain People I Could Name - They Might Be Giants
Particle Man - They Might Be Giants
Another First Kiss - They Might Be Giants
Famous Blue Raincoat - Jonathan Coulton
You Are Alive - Stephen Jay
Sell Sell Sell - Barenaked Ladies
Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep At the Wheel - Barenaked Ladies

My wife Kristin isn't a fan of this practice, but when she agrees to stop lactating I'll agree to give up my method.

Co-sleeping: Man's best friend

2008-01-07T22:56:00.000-05:00

Probably the most controversial topic we encountered was when we told people we were going to co-sleep, i.e. have the baby sleep in the same bed as us. Everyone thought that the baby would either; be crushed by his 300 pound dad, keep us up all night, or become an insecure mother-dependent transvestite.

First of all, unless you make a habit of passing out on your bed after a night of binge-drinking there's no way you'll roll onto your baby. Your brain knows darn well that he's there, and if you even get close to him alarms will go off in your head. It means a few nights of fearful slumber while you adjust to this alien critter sleeping right next to you, but you eventually get used to it.

Second, if you're not a fan of the "cry it out" method of child neglect-- er, child rearing, then having the infant right next to you is great when he starts fussing in the middle of the night. If mama is breastfeeding then that's even better, since she can reach over and stick him on a boob without even waking up and dad can sleep through the whole thing. I shudder to think of how many nights I would have had to get up to comfort the rug rat if he was in his own crib.

Third, co-sleeping doesn't make kids clingy. Some fear that they'll still be bunking with you when they hit puberty but they will reach an age when they're sick of daddy's snoring and mom's night terrors and demand their own room. If you want them to leave before they're ready then by all means wean them out of it, but better to give them some months or years of family closeness than deprive them of it from day one.

This last argument is also heard quite a bit with breastfeeding, which baffles me. I agree that a five year old demanding a boob is creepy, but there's a middle ground between that and using formula from the start.

Support my butt... no, wait

2008-01-07T22:44:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in my last post about being supportive with your wife. Well, get used to hearing that statement a lot if you're an expecting father. 99.9% of the books and articles out there think that the man's job after planting his seed is to wait on his woman until the child is born, and then wait on the woman until the child has gone off to college. And kill spiders, of course.

This really bugged me when I tried to read up on what to expect as a future dad. The books would go on about the what the mother should do during pregnancy and the birth, and then casually mention that the man should make himself useful, like feed his wife ice chips and sing inspirational hymns.

A good book I eventually found was The Expectant Father, which was written from a man's point of view and had a lot of interesting things in it. By the end I was confident I could deliver the baby myself if we got snowed in by a blizzard. (An unlikely scenario, since our due date was in August.)

All about the boobs

2008-01-07T22:30:00.001-05:00

If you and your wife are waffling about the whole breastfeeding thing, there are many reasons to do it, including fighting off diseases, improving intelligence, preventing obesity, and overall better health. Not to mention breast milk is specifically designed by nature to be all your baby needs. It also burns about 500 calories a day for the mom, so it's a great way to lose some weight.

Unfortunately it can also be remarkably difficult to master, which baffles me considering how easy it seems for other mammals. There a quite a few medical reasons for a woman not to breastfeed, and if your wife is unfortunate enough to fall under one of these categories then by all means be supportive and find alternative feeding solutions. But if it's just a matter of being disturbed by the thought then do some research and consult some specialists, either online or local lactation consultants. If your "expert" gives you advice that sounds odd then definitely get a second opinion.

And avoid the advice of your crazy aunt who claims that the only way to breastfeed is dangling upside down while yodeling.

Diaper time!

2008-01-02T21:29:00.000-05:00

Sure, you'll drive your wife to the hospital and provide moral support during the birth, but the most daunting act of your new fatherhood will be changing a diaper. Especially since the odds are good that you'll have many female relatives watching you like hawks as you do it for the first time.

Practice at least once at home, just to ensure you don't do anything stupid. Also remember that your new bundle of joy is not made of glass. You can grab him by the legs and hoist his butt up without breaking anything. Always keep wipes handy and make sure he's completely clean and dry before putting on a new diaper. If the baby's butt starts to get red use some ointment on it, but don't go overboard with it every diaper change.

Something to decide beforehand is whether to use cloth or disposable diapers. I will admit that disposables are slightly more convenient, but doing a load of laundry every two or three days isn't that big a deal if you've got a washer and dryer at home. The benefits of cloth diapers, on the other hand, are many. In the long run they're cheaper, since on average you'll go through up to 8,000 diapers before potty training. Disposables are also made of plastic and chemicals that go into landfills, so that's a mountain of 8,000 diapers you can avoid adding to your local dump where they'll be around for a few hundred years. It's fewer chemicals on your baby's nether regions and actually help your child potty train faster.

Diapers are pretty fancy nowadays, too, and the best ones are just as easy to put on as disposables. Personally, we went "old school" with the old-fashioned big rectangles of cloth for the first year to save money, then switched to fancier ones when Simon got bigger and decided to squirm through diaper changes.