Kids and science experiments

Two stories for kid science lovers:

At lunch today, it was fun to watch as my wife and 10 month old daughter conducted a science experiment. Amelia would hold her milk cup out over the edge of the high chair, where she usually drops it on the floor. her mom would somewhat playfully say "no, no no, don't do that!" or something similar. Amelia got this great big grin on her face and pulled the cup back over the tray, at which time mom would say "good girl!" in a nice excited happy way. Then the cycle would repeat, with Amelia very clearly, deliberately holding the cup out over the floor, watching her mom and hearing her mom react, then clearly deliberately pulling the cup back over the high chair tray. Whether or not there was language comprehension on Amelia's part (I think she is getting some of it), she *was* very clearly experimenting to see what would happen, and by her smile, enjoying the accuracy of her predictions.

At the end of bath, after I dry Nicolas (5 yr old) off, he wants to curl up in a little ball and be covered with the towel, for a game of "what's in that egg?" (towel == eggshell) after a little cracking and wiggling, *something* comes out of the egg, and I have no idea what it is. I started presenting it with options "hmmm, if it is a plant it might light some sunshine, but if it is a lion, it might like a meaty steak", pretending to hold these options out in each hand and letting the whatever it is choose the hand that has something appropriate. Occasionally, I may feign stupidity (or genuinely not have figured it out yet), and ask something like "hmmm, what could I do to tell the difference?" to give Nicolas a chance to design an experiment of his own to be presented with. This has lots of educational opportunities... what do different animals (or machines) eat? "if it is a car, it might like some gasoline (my left hand), but if it is a big truck, it would prefer diesel (my right hand)". What do different animals (or machines) do? "would it rather pounce on a mouse (left hand) or dig a great big hole (right hand)?" "would it rather drive on a nice smooth street, or drive on a really bumpy rocky road?"

I'm convinced that kids are naturally scientists (stimulus response experimentalists, at the minimum), they just don't have any scientific theory to guide them.

Such fun!

rootie

Danger at the driver-through...

I was spacing out at the drive though this morning while waiting for my food. The guy in the car behind me sticks his head out his window and starts yelling. It didn't take long to figure out that he was yelling at me.

What was my offense? It would seem that I was looking at him.

Yes, this man was ready to take it over to the adjacent parking lot because some space cadet at the McDonald's drive-thru was absentmindedly staring at the wall beyond his rear view mirror.

I am quite certain that he wasn't at all happy that I *did* keep my eye on him every second after that until I was able to leave with my breakfast.

I continue to long for a rational society where valid rights are recognized and no person has to live in fear of another.

rootie

Facebook quizzes, not just entertaining, but dangerous

Have you ever seen one of those quizzes that isn't just pointless, but entirely incorrect in its questions? For example: "Toppling enemy regimes to spread democracy will make the world a safer place. agree/disagree" Without a thorough understanding of the basis of individual rights, and a commitment to maintain them, democracy can easily become the tyranny of the many.

I am not against democracy, instead I *am* for a better understanding of individual rights.

You do not have a right to health care.

You do not have a right to an education.

You do not have a right to get $4500 dollars to trade in your old SUV for a new one.

You have a right to everything you would have on a deserted island. Who will provide your health care? Who will provide your education? Who will provide your retirement benefits? These are not rights, these are demands on the skills and productivity of others.

You do have a right to any shelter you can find or create on this island. You do have a right to any food you can catch, collect, grow, pick and store. You do have a right to any knowledge of flora or fauna, science, medicine or engineering you can determine from the world around you. You have a right to make your way in the world by the power of your intellect and application of your body to your own ends.

If there is only one other person on this deserted island with you, your rights do not change. You do not suddenly get to make any unearned claim on that other person's skills, on their productivity nor on their property and call it "a right". Indeed it is ludicrous to claim that it is ok to simply steal from that other person.

Just as it is inappropriate to make demands against only one person on a deserted island, it is equally inappropriate to make those demands on 10 or 100 or 1,000 people, or 300 million people on a deserted continent.

To demand that the world owes you something and mistakenly call it "a right" does not make it right. To claim that democracy is the solution and thereby to make that same demand with 6 billion of your closest friends still does not make it "a right" nor does it make it right.

rootie

The value of a lighter bike

I got a great deal on a used mountain bike, and in the process dropped about 11 pounds of weight from my previous mountain bike. I've had it long enough to go on exactly 1 ride.

wow.

What's the big deal? What sort of difference can that much weight make?

• Mountain biking is about going uphill. 11 extra pounds up 500 feet is roughly equivalent in energy output to riding an additional 25 feet uphill. (assuming 200 lbs of bike and rider) (approximately 5% advantage)
• The weight of the bicycle can act as a keel, stabilizing both bike and rider. This works both ways -- a lighter bike is substantially more maneuverable, but at the cost that the rider must be slightly more careful -- it is very easy to end up crosswise on the trail if your balance isn't quite right and you over-correct.
• A much lighter bicycle can be moved forward and backward under the rider much easier under load, including to change the center of balance before bumps or ruts, or take minor advantage of undulations in the trail surface.
• Last but not least, when you have the fitness level of a jelly belly with a desk job (who? surely not me...well ok occasionally), if you find a hill too steep to ride, it is much easier to push up the hill.

I can't say that it makes me a better rider, but it puts a little more fun in my fun.

rootie

You know you're a parent when...

You know you're a parent when... 

• the baby makes "that" sound and you automatically hold your hand out to catch the spitup before it gets on everything.
  
• you think prolonged baby vocalizations with no pitch or rhythm are the baby's way of singing.  Hey, it only occurs like that when I'm singing to her, ok?  I'm not really imaging things -- she is singing, ok?  either that or a very young music critic...
  
• you can relax your body while holding a loud crying baby, even when that crying hits the magic pitch designed by evolution to be impossible to ignore, because the baby will cry more if it senses your tension.
• runny rice cereal counts as "solid" food
• you find yourself lost in their eyes

Money, the root of all evil...?

Wow. (long silent pause)

Yes, I am *still* trying to work my way through Atlas Shrugged. I don't recall the exact date I started, but it's been a long time, even for non-book-worm me. Today I hit a passage that struck me, perhaps more than anything I've read in a long time; a passage so important and so fundamental to the heart of Objectivism that I have to recommend people to read (or re-read) it on their own.

At the wedding reception of Jim Taggart, there is a brief monologue by Francisco d'Anconia starting with "So you think that money is the root of all evil?" and making many points including "Money is a tool of exchange, which can't exist unless there are goods produced and men able to produce them. Money is the material shape of the principle that men who wish to deal with one another must deal by trade and give value for value."

...this monologue continues some pages later "Americans were the first to understand that wealth has to be created. The words 'to make money' hold the essence of human morality".

I cannot do justice to this long passage, other than to agree with it wholeheartedly and recommend that everyone should have a chance to read it and to think about it. I'm far enough into learning about Objectivism that I've lost much of my newbie status, so if this is the first time you've encountered this idea that the phrase "to make money" is more than just metaphor, I'd be interested to hear what you think.

For myself, I know that money doesn't always have to be involved -- as I was limbing a downed tree at my in-laws today, there I was out in the sunshine and fresh air doing work for no monetary benefit, and it felt very good to see the branch piles grow, to accomplish something worthwhile in the world, and to know that I was productive. (yes, there are non-monetary benefits to this activity, including clearing a sidewalk, making the yard safer for my son, getting fresh air and exercise, some small scraps of cherry wood for "play" on the wood lathe, and contributing to a family that I value)

wishing you all a productive day...

rootie

Gratuitous smiling baby picture and drool management

For those baby lovers among you who like pictures of smiling babies, even stranger's babies... (*groucho marx accent* "and there's nothing stranger than babies") here's a recent shot.

For the mess averse among my gentle readers, note that the baby's head is resting on a patterned piece of fabric that just happens to be a cloth diaper. Babies that are prone to spitting up will soak anything under their mouth, including your shoulder, your arm, the cat, the changing table, and their fancy bed linens... One solution is to keep a cloth diaper under their head, neck and shoulders -- let'em soak away!

My wife has been using small terry-cloth bibs to keep the car seat drool-free, but now that Amelia has gained a modicum of control over her hands, there's a small hole in that logic -- you see, bibs are conveniently located within hand's reach and easy to get to the mouth. Of course, once the edge is curled mouth-ward, the spitup is free to flow over that edge to the nice dry pajamas underneath.

The other thing that helps is not boiling the baby. Ok, perhaps I better explain that comment a little -- you don't actually boil the baby, but you can get them quite excited with very little effort this excitement appears to cause stomach contents to "boil over" and come dribbling, spilling, and shooting out of their mouth: "who's daddy's girl? oh what a pretty smile you have! can you hold my finger? that's a good grip you have! ... oh wow you can sure spit up a lot!" Of course, this varies by baby. My son rarely if ever spit up, but my daughter is a drool and spitup factory and she's still not 4 months yet.

We've hit that stage where she is now capable of grabbing some nearby object and steering it into her mouth, including the hand that is trying to dry her hair. ...and so, having masted the charmer smile, and started the period of initial dexterity, the first 3 months of "crying bread loaf" end and the real fun is just beginning. I can hardly wait for "peek-a-boo"!

rootie

Kidstuff: 2 month old magician (Life's little lessons #5312)

One of the foundations of magic is the graceful art of distraction. If you can get the audience looking at your right hand, your left hand is free to put a rabbit in your hat or load some cards. My 2 month old daughter has demonstrated this ability.

I was halfway into a diaper change, had the old one off and was wrapping it up, and not awake enough to have unfolded the new clean dry one. I looked at her face, our eyes met, (as a parent, baby eyes are extremely engaging, especially once you can tell there is a mind behind them, and that they see *you* not just shapes and light) and then the sweetest baby girl in the world smiled at me, then topped it off with the coup-de-grace of a delightfully vocalized "goo". I melted completely -- if she had asked "daddy buy me a Ferrari", the house would have been double mortgaged in an instant.

Moment over, back to the task at hand...hey, wait a minute...the changing table is wet...how did that happen...oh!

Some weeks ago, I had the audacity to laugh at my wife who, in a very practiced fashion, and almost a single movement, pulled the old diaper out and put the new diaper under. A lesson, that by the second child, you'd think I'd know...

rootie

Is it wrong if I want my baby to cry?

Those of you who have noticed a drop in the frequency of my posts lately probably also recall the new baby in the house. New babies bring with them a change in lifestyle that is all too easily forgotten, and sometimes in spite of sleep-deprived crying baby haze, we learn things about the baby, and about ourselves.

About the baby:

• by 2 weeks, the baby can tell the difference between mom (source of all goodness and *food*), and dad (food? not so much). This knowledge is visible in body language and behavior when baby goes from dad (holding her off till mom is ready) to mom (who is now ready). Pretty subtle, but very noticeable.
• by 4 weeks, the above noted body language becomes the difference between stiff-bodied crying and a calm face with an open mouth ready for feeding.
• sometimes dad has the advantage -- baby doesn't expect food, and so is more likely to calm down in the presence of gassy tummy rather than rooting around for more milk to put on top of the gas
• between 1 and 2 months, the start of a smile will show up, and when that first real smile shows up, it can really melt you and cause you to do silly things like repeat "how's my little girl?" in that doofus goofy voice with a big grin over and over trying to get her to repeat the smile.
• babies often have their happy place -- for ours, it is on the changing table -- most crying melts away and happy alert baby comes out to play...even in the middle of the night when "happy alert baby" should be sleeping

You also learn things about yourself:

• most things you learned on the first kid transfer to the second (not quite riding a bicycle, but pretty close)
• a working parent might find themselves longing for a crying baby to hold.

Perhaps I should explain that last one. Daily routine goes something like this:

• get up shower and get dressed
• get preschooler up fed cleaned and dressed
• (maybe) hug wife and take preschooler to school (baby is sleeping)
• after a long day at work come home
• maybe hold the baby while mom eats, then give baby back to mom for feeding
• dad plays with preschooler, then gets him ready for bed (alternating nights of mom and dad at bedtime)
• mom and sleeping baby go to bed
• dad sulks because he only got 3-5 minutes of time to hold the baby all day
• baby is gassy after feeding late at night
• happy dad walks the floor with fussy crying baby, happy because he finally gets some real uninterrupted baby time

It isn't always like that, but it surprised me when I was that happy to wake up and walk the floors.

When I have time to get the pictures off the camera and cleaned up a little, I'll post a smiling baby photo. *sigh*

I think I hear floors that need walking -- gotta run...er walk-and-bounce-and-walk-and-bounce-and-sway-sway-sway...

rootie

Life's little lessons #5047

I recently took my 4 year old son on a hike, deliberately using his enthusiasm to get "all the way to the top of Tablerock!" as an excuse for me to get some exercise in cold crisp winter air. We left the car in the parking lot early (10:30am ;-)) on a sub-freezing morning, with a sandwich to share, a variety of snacks, a thermos full of hot chocolate in my fanny pack, and my camera equipped with the long lens (70-300mm).

As we're starting up the trail, I recall thinking to myself: "it looks kinda muddy, but we're not making any tracks in it, so let's continue up and see how it goes. " (if you've already figured out the mystery, keep it to yourself and don't spoil the ending for everyone else)


A 4 year old boy, no matter how enthusiastic about reaching the top, is not particularly focused on the climb, so we stopped at every bush, icy puddle, interesting rock, deer track, dog track, elk(!) track on the trail on the way up. We didn't set any land speed records on the ascent. In fact, by the time we got up close to the top, the sun had been shining long enough that the trail which "looked kinda muddy" was, in fact, muddy enough that you couldn't really climb it and keep your feet. He ended up developing some outdoor skills like "dad -- help me up!" to make it the last 30 feet of the climb and avoid the muddy trail.

Elk Track!

After 3 hours, 800 vertical feet and 1.6 miles from the car (thank you google maps for adding topographic information!), we sat at the cliff edge of the plateau, ate the sandwich and drank hot chocolate from mickey mouse dixie cups, while enjoying the view. *ahhhhh*

Then it came time to go back down.

Funny thing about water -- when it gets cold, it freezes to become a solid, but once heated it will melt and return to liquid form. This fact should have been "frozen" into my memory from childhood years of dealing with mud, snow and cold. What was a firm grippy surface for most of the hike up had become a sticky gooey quagmire that makes almond butter seem like a lubricant.

Those of you in winter climes understand that there is good snow for making snowmen, and there is bad snow for making snowmen. If there were such a thing as mudmen, this would have been the perfect mud to use! The last 20 yards of the trail, I had 4" tall mud-block platforms attached to the bottom of my boots, and Nicolas had 2-3" of mud on his shoes. I'm not particularly mess-averse, but we were muddy enough when we got back to the car, I stripped him down to his long johns for the ride home.

I am amazed that Nicolas made it all the way up and back, and in good spirits too! He was my "little truck" for the rest of the weekend.

rootie

You have how many airplanes in your back yard?

I get a lot of urban legend email from friends and relatives -- the ludicrous or outrageous ones I'll go dig up some details to put them to rest. When I got a chain email with interesting pictures of airplanes in storage -- it was interesting enough I had to check it out. Well, maybe "storage" isn't quite the right word -- the email called it the "Bone Yard". Google maps satellite view shows it very well..

Take some time to zoom in and browse around on the satellite view. Helicopters, bombers, several generations of fighter jets stretched out in nice neat rows. Some of the bombers are in massive pieces.

From the military web site:

The 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (309 AMARG) is a
one-of-a-kind specialized facility within the Air Force Materiel Command
structure. 309 AMARG provides critical aerospace maintenance and regeneration
capabilities for Joint and Allied/Coalition warfighters in support of global
operations and agile combat support for a wide range of military
operations.

elsewhere it indicates "more than 4,400 aircraft and 13 aerospace vehicles" are on that site. Here and I think it is cool to have a 2 car garage...

I'd love to have the opportunity to go photograph there. You could probably spend years working it as a subject.

I guess this one isn't just an urban legend that someone made up. :)

rootie
ps. Why have I included no pictures for this? I haven't taken any. Rather than dig up some internet images of questionable origin and unknown permissions or copyright, it is morally appropriate that I should direct you to sites you can explore for yourselves. There are a lot of pictures on the web.

The moral and the right

Objectivism changes the way you think and see the world around you. My customized google home page displays quotes. I hadn't realized the degree of change in my thinking when this quote came up the other day:

"Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what's right."

-- Isaac Asimov

Such a simple quote with an embedded philosophy; an embedded way of defining right and wrong. The embedded philosophy of this quote is that what is moral isn't what is right; the moral isn't what is good.

There's just one little problem with this one-sentence philosophy: That which is "moral" is defined by that which is "right" or "good"; you cannot separate them.

To imply otherwise is to undermine the definitions of both terms, to destroy what is actually good, and tarnish the course of action which is moral.

rootie

Giving Birth (a man's view)

I have had the good fortune to be present for the birth of both of my children. This is without a doubt one of the most highly impactful events of my life. Rational Jenn suggested doing a post on the experience, so here I go with a simplified slice through the complex 23 dimensional time-emotion-event-space-stream.

Helplessness...

"Never fear, Mr. Fixit is here! Have tools, will travel, what can I fix for you my dear?" There is nothing I can fix. There are no tools I can use, no drugs I can administer, no "real help" I can be in getting the baby out. At best, I am a lackey to an errand boy during these proceedings. A lackey trained to utter a few simple phrases:

1. Can I get you anything?
2. You're doing great, honey!
3. Nurse? Dr? (i.e. "fetch, Mr Fixit, fetch help")

Also a lackey with common sense *not* to utter a few simple phrases:

1. Is it supposed to look like that?
2. Holy s**t that's the biggest needle I've ever seen!
3. It can't hurt that bad.
4. Git yer hands offa my wife!

Cluelessness...

My son (kid #1) was 3 weeks early, a complete surprise to us. You should have seen me struggling with the forms, "you need to know the date of her last what?!?" "due date? well, it wasn't today", "grandma's maiden name? Who's having this baby anyway?" "oh damn, not my SSN, *her* SSN" Where's the nurse? We're gonna want an epidural! What do you mean it is too late? (in this instance, "too late" meant she went from 3-4 cm dilated to "we're gonna have a baby now, ok?" in the blink of an eye)

My daughter (kid #2) was happy being a warm little bun in the oven. We had time to "make reservations early to avoid the holiday rush" at the hospital and leisurely strolled out of the house that morning. Ok, so I was still a wreck "what do you mean we're leaving now?", but I had time to get her bags, my bag (I planned to overnight with her), the kitchen sink, a pocketable camera and a book I could read in case time permitted.

Shock...

In movies set any time before 1950, it seems that childbirth is something that is done behind closed doors, requiring lots of towels, shouting, and hot water. The father most definitely is not invited. In our modern enlightened view, "the man" can be present for everything. You can get the joy of having your hand squeezed hard enough that your toes turn purple, and hearing whatever it is that your sweet dainty polite innocent wife might utter.

(side note: speaking of utterings, for those who may be proceeding down this path, anticipate many highly hormonal, and emotionally charged situations during delivery and a couple months after birth where one or both of you are sleep-deprived, cranky, in pain, or just plain tired of hearing a bawling baby -- during this period plan to forgive absolutely anything said or done in one of "those moments" -- it will happen, and keeping an objective viewpoint knowing that it will happen makes it much easier to handle properly).

(back to shock) There are reasons deliveries were hidden behind closed doors -- in spite of any efforts at modesty, everything is "hanging out in there for the world to see". Every nurse, and doctor in the place seems to want to see how much they can get my wife to wince in pain -- "let's just see how we're doing here m'kay?" that and "you may feel a little pressure" -- I've been with this woman long enough to know "a little pressure" probably hurts like hell, without hearing a word from her.

The other reason for closed doors, is that giving birth is MESSY. There is no "oh look at this delicate, warm bun fresh from the over, isn't it lovely?", no this is the sort of bloody gruesome that makes horror movies pale in comparison, and leaves you wondering to yourself (don't you dare say it aloud) "is *that* supposed to happen?" Ok, so it isn't all that bad, but if you have a weak stomach for such things I'd recommend going back to the 1950's approach of pacing the halls.

The hospital staff in the delivery room was extremely adept at mess reduction and cleanup. Kudos to them for an amazing job on so many levels. (interpersonal, custodial, medical) Nobody yelled or panicked or dropped the baby -- all good attributes to have in a medical team.

Amazement...

There is a point during the delivery process when the doctor may look up to say "there's the top of the head -- want to see it?" If you get the chance, do it. ... Even now, I find myself in stunned silence just thinking about it. My mind was racing and my voice didn't work. don't freak out, don't freak out, wow that's our baby, don't freak out, look at all that hair, wow that baby really is coming "through there", don't freak out don't freak out, breathe, breathe, and it has hair too! This is about the point in the pregnancy where it becomes a lot more real for the father -- that first glimpse of what is to be.

Wonder...

Some time after that first glimpse of the top of the head, a slippery looking wet baby shoots out (only a man would use the word "shoot", but once a certain threshold is crossed, the baby seemed to me to exit rapidly) -- in any case, it is almost immediately wrapped up in blankets or towels, and set up for mom to hold, even before the umbilical cord is cut. The crying begins; oh those first cries -- for my son, he had such a cry that I'd never heard before, almost bleating -- I really wish I had an audio recording of it. My daughter was a much more normal crying baby sound. No, on second thought, this isn't a normal crying baby sound, this is the sound of a newborn. With a minor ceremony of daddy cutting the umbilical cord, baby is free for mama to hold. This moment, the culmination of well over a year of physical, emotional and interpersonal stress, can only be described as an emotional catharsis. Welling tears, a gentle glance between husband and wife, shared caresses between mother, father, and baby. Our eyes are locked on our new arrival.

In this space, surrounded by a frenetic phalanx of nurses and doctors, blood, sweat, tears, and all manner of medical instruments and medical debris, in this space, at this moment, we are in a bubble, an intimate family bubble and there is nothing else in the room but the 3 of us.

rootie

kidstuff: Mmmm, Gazelle tastes like chicken!

We watched Disney's The Lion King with Nicolas the other night. He has been a lion cub ever since.

We now pause for a *BIG PARENTING TIP* for anyone reading who hasn't already been through it: If your child is reluctant to do something, but they are in a state of active imagination -- if you can align your desire with their imagination, "NO!" will become "YES!" in the blink of an eye.

Dinner was to be chicken and mashed potatoes. Queue the loud 4 year old whiny voice: "I don't want chicken!" He was busy playing (surprise surprise) and didn't want to stop. Mom and I both know he eats chicken, it was mostly a matter of not wanting to stop playing. Earlier, while playing, he and I had chased imaginary gazelles and pretended to eat them (FYI: household cats can make a very good gazelle, fast and elusive when spooked) Thinking on my feet, in response to the refusal to eat chicken, "what about gazelle? Would you like some gazelle for dinner instead? I hear it tastes just like chicken..."

"No!" became "yes!" and dinner was served.

This same technique works at bath time for washing paws, mane or fins, scrubbing bugs off the grille (brushing teeth) of a pretend car, putting tires (shoes) on his feet, adorning a little space craft with "thermal shielding" (a winter coat) for going outside, etc.

The possibilities are limited only by your imagination.

rootie