Jonah just read this book entirely on his own!
Update: The online version of this book doesn’t even contain all the pages of the printed version that Jonah read. Notably missing is the “Sam sat on Mat” part of the story.
Category: family
Empowered by powerlessness
Then the power went out. And Andrea went to work.
Yesterday was memorably windy here in the Bay Area and we were among the many affected by downed power lines. After scurrying around to perform clean shutdowns of our computers before the UPS’s gave out, we settled in to wait for the power to come back. Power failures are not all that uncommon in our area but they seldom last for more than a few minutes.
Minutes became an hour. The wind outside continued to howl, and our drafty house began to cool. The kids needed some breakfast and I was loath to open the refrigerator, lest our food begin to spoil if the outage was to be a protracted one. But I got the kids fed with a minimum of precious refrigerator-air lost. Then we sat down and began reading books together. I promised the kids a movie as soon as the electricity came back on.
An hour became two, then three. Alex needed a walk, and we had the opposite of the refrigerator problem: I didn’t want to let any of our warm air out. With some deftness I got her outside, then back in, about as quickly as could be managed with a frail, elderly dog.
By lunchtime the power was still out and I called out for pizza. We played with new Christmas toys and read more books. I taught the kids how to play “20 Questions.” Archer, only two and a half, was unclear on the concept: each time it was his turn to think of something he would begin by saying, “Is it an elephant?”
As the hours continued going by and the house continued to cool, I texted with Andrea on my Hiptop. Should we spend the night in a hotel (rather than keep Archer with his fever in a fifty-degree house overnight)? No: we found out that the estimated repair time for our power lines was 5-7pm.
Night came. We lit some candles and carried a flashlight. We hung out under the covers in “the big bed.” 7pm came and went with no electricity. We read more books. I recited the plots of some favorite movies. Andrea came home. The kids ate snacks, then fell asleep. We learned that the repair estimate was for 5-7pm the next day, but chose to stay the night anyway. It was warm enough under the covers, and the house — indeed the whole neighborhood — was delightfully silent. I snuggled under a fleecy blanket in the living room with volume three of The Baroque Cycle and my LightWedge.
At 10:30pm the electricity came back on. Although we had switched off all lights, etc., I knew immediately when power was restored: the total quiet was replaced by faint buzzing and humming coming from every direction as nominally “silent” electronics came to life all at once.
I modestly consider yesterday to have been a parenting triumph. Although Jonah complained, “It’s boring without TV,” in fact that was just a passing sentiment; he was never actually bored. We effortlessly filled an entire day with talking, reading, and interactive play, to say nothing of smiling and laughing, even in the absence of many of our usual comforts — evidence to me of a well-laid foundation for a healthy, fun family.
Happy birthday Andrea!
Santa versus the bees!
“What?” I thoughtfully probed.
“There are thirty or forty honeybees flying around in the living room. Some of them are starting to die, they’re lying on the floor.”
“Did one of us leave a window open this morning?”
“Nope.”
“Then where did they come from?”
“I have no idea.”
Thus began the Night of a Million Bees. Actually it was only thirty or forty, but to me it seemed like a million. You see, even though as a scientist I like and admire bees, and can even enjoy watching their industrious activities from a safe remove, in person I’m terrified of them. My parents used to make fun of the way I skedaddled out of the way whenever I saw one as a kid; they called it “The Glickstein Shuffle.” In summer camp I was always relegated to right field when we played softball, where the clover was dense and the honeybees were busy. Many were the times when a fly ball would land just a few steps from me while I was preoccupied with staying out of the bees’ way.
But now I am the head of a family and I have to be Brave, so I told Andrea to take Alex (our dog), pick up the kids at preschool, and keep them all at her office for the time being. I would go home, scope out the bee situation, and take appropriate action. I fully expected to take one quick look inside, see a buzzing swarm centered over our sofa, say, “Uh huh,” close the door again and get a hotel for a few days while armor-suited professionals tented our house and fumigated the hell out of it.
In fact what happened was this: I went into the house and immediately saw three or four bees on the floor in the entryway, motionless. I crept slowly inside, taking great care with each step, touching nothing and thoroughly scanning the next patch of floor before placing my foot on it. Sweating bullets, heart pounding, I switched on every light in the place until it was ablaze with brilliance, and then got a flashlight for good measure, and a long stick. I found more motionless bees: some in the kitchen sink; some on the sofa; some on the windowsill. I grew a bit bolder and pushed apart the slats of our vertical blinds with my long stick, and shone the flashlight in. There I found more bees. And more still between the sofa cushion, and under the piano bench, etc. Some were quite hard to see.
Then I noticed that a few were moving sluggishly; the first couple I’d seen, in the entryway, seemed to be coming quickly back to life! I trapped them under drinking glasses. Then, still trembling with fear, I plugged in the vacuum cleaner, assembled the long-reach hose, and began sucking up the bees. After ten heart-stopping minutes I believed I’d gotten them all, and only switched off the vacuum after considerable hesitation, certain that when the suction abated they’d emerge all abuzz to exact their revenge.
We slept at home that night, albeit a bit uneasily. But for several days there were no more bees. Then one day we saw three new bees in the living room, flying around, not yet exhausted. Emboldened by my prior experience, I sucked them up with the vacuum cleaner right out of midair. But the mystery of where they could be coming from remained.
One afternoon I heard a strange hum in the living room but saw no bees. I triangulated the sound to — our fireplace! That’s when I noticed that, though our fireplace doors have been closed for years — we never use it — a tiny air vent in the corner of those doors, big enough for a bee to crawl through, had been open all along. I closed it.
Our hypothesis now is that there is a nest of honeybees in our chimney, and perhaps a piece broke off and fell into our flue or even the fireplace. In the confusion some bees escaped through the air vent into our living room. We made a note to address the problem sooner or later, but it drifted down to the bottom of our priority list. After all, closing the vent seemed to solve the problem once and for all, why not let the bees be? We never use the chimney ourselves. We never even open the fireplace.
Except for tonight. Christmas Eve. How will Santa get in?
Tonight the kids will expect us to throw the fireplace doors wide and set out a folding table next to them with cookies and milk for Santa. But there is no way I’m opening those doors. What can we tell the kids to allay their fears that Santa will be locked out?
I may have to haul out the ladder, write a note, and let the kids see me taping it to the roof. “Dear Santa, there are bees in the chimney, please use the patio door.” Then of course we’d have to leave the patio door open, which exposes us to the possibility of a visit by one of the many neighborhood skunks. Bees, or skunks? Either way, Merry Christmas.
My cousin Janet
The armory
We did not encourage swords in our house, I swear. (Nor did we enhance their allure by making a big deal out of prohibiting them.) But then Jonah won a plastic katana at the Marin County Fair (really, he did, all on his own, by popping balloons with thrown darts), so then of course Archer had to have one too. One thing led to another and… well, now look.
Yes, every object in that picture is used as a sword (and plenty of others, ad hoc), even the ones that don’t look like swords.
Every time we go to the supermarket (which is near the toy store), it’s:
Jonah: Can we go to the toy store?
Me: What do you want to get?
Jonah: Swords. [Archer nods vigorously in agreement.]
Me: [exasperated] Don’t you have enough swords?!
Jonah: Just one more. Pleeeeeease?
Well, at least the “just one more Thomas the Tank Engine train, pleeeeeease” phase is over. Maybe this one will end too. Meanwhile, guess what Archer’s Christmas wish list was? In its entirety, quote:
One little sword.
Jonah 1, parental instruction 0
Jonah has learned to ride a two-wheel bicycle entirely on his own! And here I was looking forward to teaching him using a novel (to me) technique suggested by my friend Bart.
When I learned to ride a bike, it was after hours and hours, spread acrosss days and days, of coaching from my dad, who jogged along behind me holding my bike upright, like a human pair of training wheels. One day as I was finally getting the feel of it, I asked him a question and got no reply. I turned around to see him receding into the distance. He had let go, and I was riding the bike on my own! In a panic I literally leaped off the bike onto concrete, setting back my bike-riding efforts by a few more days.
I remember my dad’s help with great fondness, but Bart’s method made much more sense when he described it to me. The student straddles the top bar of the bike, feet flat on the ground, hands on the handlebars, and walks the bike around for five minutes to get a feel for it. The student then stands on one pedal while kicking off the ground with the other foot, like riding a scooter. After ten or fifteen minutes of that, the student is ready to get both feet off the ground and start pedaling.
But Jonah’s gone and learned to ride on his own initiative, using the small learning bikes that his preschool has in its schoolyard. I am proud! …but just a little disappointed. That’ll pass, though, come springtime, when we light out for the park and ride together!
Archer 1, parental authority 0
Archer was home from preschool all last week with a fever. Andrea and I took turns missing work to care for him. Happily, his fever broke on Friday night and he was fine all weekend.
Having lots to catch up on at work, Andrea and I were eager to get the kids off to preschool this morning. But Archer had gotten used to lots of one-on-one parent-child time and was determined to stay home again. He refused to allow me to dress him. I coaxed him gently for a while and promised some fun family activities after school and work, but to no avail. Then I ratcheted up the sternness and started to tell him that certain privileges would be unavailable later if he continued to resist me now. When that didn’t result in improved cooperation, I resorted to, “Do we do this the easy way or the hard way?” The kids know that the hard way is no fun, so this threat almost always works — but not this time.
So, the hard way. I confiscated the items that Archer had been carrying around and pinned him to the changing table while wrestling his pajama top off and then his shirt on over his head. After lots of struggle, and plenty of crying from Archer, I managed to get his clothes on.
My victory was short-lived. Archer still held the trump card — the one sure way to make me remove the clothes I had just forcibly caused him to wear. With an assist from his convulsive crying and a belly full of Malt-O-Meal, he barfed all over them.
A cautionary tale for all who believe their authority is absolute.
Alone again, finally
Last night was the iPost Christmas party at the four-star Hotel Monaco in San Francisco. Our friend Laura brought her niece Amelia to our place for a sleepover with Jonah and Archer. (She’s right between them in age. We joke that Jonah and Archer will fight over her when it’s time to choose a date for the prom.) This freed up me and Andrea to go to the party (in formal dress!), drink more than usual, hang out with folks until all hours, then retire to our room upstairs (on iPost’s dime) and spend the night completely alone. For the first time in over four and a half years!
Naturally we worried about how the kids would handle their first night with neither parent. We needn’t have — they both did great.
We knew it would be wonderful to spend a completely grown-up night, but it exceeded even our high expectations — as did Laura and her magic touch. (It’s Laura we adore-a. It’s Laura the world needs more o’.) And you can do a lot worse than spend an elegant evening being treated like royalty in the gorgeous Hotel Monaco (another eye-popping Kimpton hotel — we’ve stayed at their Argonaut and their Triton too and have loved them all).
Now the question is: Is this the shape of things to come? Or will last night have to tide us over for a few more years?
Eww.
Last week we discovered that our aged dog Alex had tapeworms! The vet gave her a dose of praziquantel, which cures the infestation in a single dose by dissolving the buggers.
Tapeworms are pretty interesting once you get past the ick factor. You get them by ingesting them or their eggs. They attach to the lining of your gut and absorb nutrients from the food you’ve eaten. Since they reside in a stream of predigested food, they need no mouth or digestive system of their own! Apart from robbing you of some of the nutrients you should be getting, you can have a tapeworm and never know it. But in worse infestations you can become seriously malnourished or suffer intestinal blockages. Tapeworms can grow to dozens of feet in length.
We have no way of knowing how bad Alex’s infestation was or how long she had it. However, days after she took the medicine, she is noticeably sturdier on her old legs. She has been just skin and bones for many months, but we put it down to her advanced age and decreased appetite. Could it have actually been due to tapeworms? It’s too soon to know whether she will recover noticeable amounts of muscle mass, but when I walked her yesterday we went to the fourth house down, then crossed the street and returned on the other side. We haven’t taken that route for months! And it’s about twice as long as the longest of her more recent walks.