Mowgli has experienced Star-Crossed First Love now. In the Wal-Mart yesterday, checking out balls and things with wheels, he found a Lightning McQueen and a Mater, just shy of shoe-box sized and rated for rather older children, and fell in love.
However, I'd been more in the frame of mind to spend maybe three bucks on a ball or a wheeled turtle, and furthermore it was time to go home for lunch and dog care. I insisted that he could have one minute, counted it down, and put away the Cars cars.
He was heartbroken, of course, and also hungry enough to really pitch a fit. Ah, first love, always the toughest. I told him I completely understood how he felt, but that it wasn't going to change anything. He pitched more fit. I did buy him a squeeze-pack of applesauce, which improved things somewhat. I did wash an apricot for him (he'd already given it a nip in the produce area) once it was paid for, and that too went a long way toward cheering him up.
I'm not sure how long a child's memory lasts at this age, but suspect we will find out very soon. I missed a couple of necessities at the store, and we'll have to go back.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Trips to the toy store
Classically, when parents go to a toy store, it's their job to say "No" a lot. We're far from classical, apparently.
Mowgli now has a toy drum because his father thought he needed it. He agrees with his father, as it happens, but it wasn't his idea. Neither were the wooden puzzles, though he loves them, or the new vocabulary-building board books which give him so many opportunities to announce "Wheel!" and "Door!" He did pick out the little football, though.
The funny part is, we were looking for an airplane. Nothing fancy, just the kind of airplane a small boy can run around the house with, holding it overhead and going "Vwoooosh!" It appears that these toys are simply not available. He seems to be perfectly happy to let his foam letter T perform the office. No doubt this is good for his imagination. We live near an airport, which has turned out to be an unexpected boon to raising a happy child. He loves that we can say, "Hey, let's go look for airplanes!" and generally get one within a few minutes. He loves chasing them across the yard.
Mowgli now has a toy drum because his father thought he needed it. He agrees with his father, as it happens, but it wasn't his idea. Neither were the wooden puzzles, though he loves them, or the new vocabulary-building board books which give him so many opportunities to announce "Wheel!" and "Door!" He did pick out the little football, though.
The funny part is, we were looking for an airplane. Nothing fancy, just the kind of airplane a small boy can run around the house with, holding it overhead and going "Vwoooosh!" It appears that these toys are simply not available. He seems to be perfectly happy to let his foam letter T perform the office. No doubt this is good for his imagination. We live near an airport, which has turned out to be an unexpected boon to raising a happy child. He loves that we can say, "Hey, let's go look for airplanes!" and generally get one within a few minutes. He loves chasing them across the yard.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Things I've Learned From Children's Television
People with small dogs didn't love their puppies as much as they could have. (Clifford)
8 plus 12 divided by 2 equals 10. (Crashbox)
If you are lost in the woods, follow a frog. (Wow Wow Wubbzy)
Nature and animals are all friendly. (nearly all of them)
No-one can do anything alone. (WonderPets)
The use-mention distinction is irrelevant. (Word World)
Unaccompanied monkeys can accomplish a lot. (Curious George)
Corollary: Adults don't know much.
You can influence what happens on the TV. (Most Nick JR programming)
Cockoos have family ties. (Go Diego Go)
Pigs are a lot like people. (Olivia, Peppa Pig, Toot and Puddle)
Gorillas have kings, lines of inheritance, and coronations. (Go Diego Go)
A map doesn't need to indicate direction, forks in the road, or distance. (Dora the Explorer)
Dogs, cats, and other common pets don't talk; other animals do. (Most)
The wind will change direction 180 degrees when your boat reaches the other end of the pond. (Little Bill)
Rivers may be found next to gorges. (Go Diego Go)
Fairy tales all have happy cooperative endings. (Super Why)
8 plus 12 divided by 2 equals 10. (Crashbox)
If you are lost in the woods, follow a frog. (Wow Wow Wubbzy)
Nature and animals are all friendly. (nearly all of them)
No-one can do anything alone. (WonderPets)
The use-mention distinction is irrelevant. (Word World)
Unaccompanied monkeys can accomplish a lot. (Curious George)
Corollary: Adults don't know much.
You can influence what happens on the TV. (Most Nick JR programming)
Cockoos have family ties. (Go Diego Go)
Pigs are a lot like people. (Olivia, Peppa Pig, Toot and Puddle)
Gorillas have kings, lines of inheritance, and coronations. (Go Diego Go)
A map doesn't need to indicate direction, forks in the road, or distance. (Dora the Explorer)
Dogs, cats, and other common pets don't talk; other animals do. (Most)
The wind will change direction 180 degrees when your boat reaches the other end of the pond. (Little Bill)
Rivers may be found next to gorges. (Go Diego Go)
Fairy tales all have happy cooperative endings. (Super Why)
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The State of Mathematics Education in the USA
I have the National Geographic channel on for the nifty astronomy and am thinking deep thoughts about humans' ability to consider powers of ten.
You see, the show is one of those terror-producing explorations of the impending doom of the Earth when the sun goes into its red-giant phase. It'll happen, and "sooner than we thought!" There is much emphasis on how one solution, pulling the Earth into a wider orbit, would take six thousand years to take effect and had to be accurate to within a billionth of a degree of arc. We could colonize Mars. We could travel to other suns.
Of course, when they do admit to a timeline, the events in question will occur in five billion years. That's billion, with a B. To astronomers, this is perhaps imminent. To geologists, that's the age of the Earth's crust. To biologists, this is 2 1/2 times as long as there's been identifiable life on earth of any kind whatsoever. The dinosaurs died out about 65 million years ago -- approximately 1/100 the scale of time we're talking about here.
I may not be able to say a lot about what life, if any, will be on the Earth when the sun expands, but I can say one thing for sure: the pronoun "us" is probably not going to have a lot to do with it. DNA just isn't that stable a molecule.
Likewise, I have to grin a little at the Congressional attempts to balance the budget of the USA. Trillion-dollar deficit, addressed with a proposed $61 billion in budget cuts. Most of these are on the order of scrapping the money for the Museum of Cowboy Poetry, a few thousands, which is almost certainly all wages for the employees. This is akin to breaking your kids' piggy banks to pay off your mortgage, and will be about as appreciated by the owners of the piggy banks. Seriously -- that's $61 billion in money that's employing people. By my math, at $50K per person, that's another 1.2 million unemployed people. Isn't that just exactly what our economy needs right now? Lately, we're happy if the economy gains that many new jobs in six months. There's gotta be another way.
You see, the show is one of those terror-producing explorations of the impending doom of the Earth when the sun goes into its red-giant phase. It'll happen, and "sooner than we thought!" There is much emphasis on how one solution, pulling the Earth into a wider orbit, would take six thousand years to take effect and had to be accurate to within a billionth of a degree of arc. We could colonize Mars. We could travel to other suns.
Of course, when they do admit to a timeline, the events in question will occur in five billion years. That's billion, with a B. To astronomers, this is perhaps imminent. To geologists, that's the age of the Earth's crust. To biologists, this is 2 1/2 times as long as there's been identifiable life on earth of any kind whatsoever. The dinosaurs died out about 65 million years ago -- approximately 1/100 the scale of time we're talking about here.
I may not be able to say a lot about what life, if any, will be on the Earth when the sun expands, but I can say one thing for sure: the pronoun "us" is probably not going to have a lot to do with it. DNA just isn't that stable a molecule.
Likewise, I have to grin a little at the Congressional attempts to balance the budget of the USA. Trillion-dollar deficit, addressed with a proposed $61 billion in budget cuts. Most of these are on the order of scrapping the money for the Museum of Cowboy Poetry, a few thousands, which is almost certainly all wages for the employees. This is akin to breaking your kids' piggy banks to pay off your mortgage, and will be about as appreciated by the owners of the piggy banks. Seriously -- that's $61 billion in money that's employing people. By my math, at $50K per person, that's another 1.2 million unemployed people. Isn't that just exactly what our economy needs right now? Lately, we're happy if the economy gains that many new jobs in six months. There's gotta be another way.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Local Wildlife, Atlanta Suburbs
The little tyke is asleep at last, and I'm trying to get some writing done. Blogging sometimes gets the ideas flowing.
It's hard to switch gears to fantasy worlds from the grim gritty reality of trying to get the little one to eat ANYTHING other than fruit. Also from the grim gritty reality of grim gritty reality, where it's a fine and wonderful thing that the child is fond of the Swiffer and not so wonderful that he's scared by the vacuum cleaner. The dust wolves were getting scary, though, so he had to put up with at least some of the roar and whoosh this morning.
Speaking of dust wolves, we had a peculiar canid running around our neighborhood last week. We heard something that sounded like a dog in dire trouble in the wooded lot next door, and the creature ran away when my husband went out to check on it. A night or two later, I caught something sable-ish, pointy-eared, and long-tailed in my headlights near the elementary school a block away. I pulled into the lot to do the whistle-and-coax routine, got a better look, and instead said out my window, "You're not a dog, are you?"
Cheeky coyote looked back at me, not at my headlights, and said pretty plainly, "Nope."
"You don't need any help, do you?"
"Not a bit," said coyote, standing calmly at the edge of another wooded lot.
"All right then," I said, and turned the car around as the critter vanished into the woods.
It looked like a young one, and after one more yap-fest I haven't heard it around again, so it may have been passing through on a quest for territory, or it may have been shot. Sad to say, this suburban neighborhood has a fair amount of shooting going on now and again, and when our roof was checked recently for damage, a bullet turned out to by lying atop our den. That's the sort of thing that puts my sympathies with the coyote. Mowgli is never out alone, of course, and generally has an honor guard of dogs who weigh probably from five to forty-five pounds more than any coyote, never mind that young one. I doubt Master Coyote takes passes through our yard if he can go around, in fact.
Still, he's something to consider if we decide to get a few hens!
It's hard to switch gears to fantasy worlds from the grim gritty reality of trying to get the little one to eat ANYTHING other than fruit. Also from the grim gritty reality of grim gritty reality, where it's a fine and wonderful thing that the child is fond of the Swiffer and not so wonderful that he's scared by the vacuum cleaner. The dust wolves were getting scary, though, so he had to put up with at least some of the roar and whoosh this morning.
Speaking of dust wolves, we had a peculiar canid running around our neighborhood last week. We heard something that sounded like a dog in dire trouble in the wooded lot next door, and the creature ran away when my husband went out to check on it. A night or two later, I caught something sable-ish, pointy-eared, and long-tailed in my headlights near the elementary school a block away. I pulled into the lot to do the whistle-and-coax routine, got a better look, and instead said out my window, "You're not a dog, are you?"
Cheeky coyote looked back at me, not at my headlights, and said pretty plainly, "Nope."
"You don't need any help, do you?"
"Not a bit," said coyote, standing calmly at the edge of another wooded lot.
"All right then," I said, and turned the car around as the critter vanished into the woods.
It looked like a young one, and after one more yap-fest I haven't heard it around again, so it may have been passing through on a quest for territory, or it may have been shot. Sad to say, this suburban neighborhood has a fair amount of shooting going on now and again, and when our roof was checked recently for damage, a bullet turned out to by lying atop our den. That's the sort of thing that puts my sympathies with the coyote. Mowgli is never out alone, of course, and generally has an honor guard of dogs who weigh probably from five to forty-five pounds more than any coyote, never mind that young one. I doubt Master Coyote takes passes through our yard if he can go around, in fact.
Still, he's something to consider if we decide to get a few hens!
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