My baby discovers number theory

While driving past a row of stores: "Mommy... there must be more people than shops."

Woot! Fields Medal, here we come!

Masters of Business

Sophie made up her first complete game today. It's called "Master of Business." The rules are: run around the house three times, jump on the bed four times, and walk around the room two times, while wearing a belt and sunglasses.

I have no idea where the name comes from, but I am very happy to report I am now a "Master of Business."

The Age of Censorship

The other day we were watching "Oblivion," which is a decent SF flick with only a few glaring plot holes (mostly related to the passage of time), even if we did spend the entire film shouting out what other movie any given scene was stolen from. When it got to the part where Tom Cruise beats up Tom Cruise (how could you not like such a scene? Either way, Tom Cruise takes a beating!), which was a pretty clean and well-scripted fight scene, Sophie leapt up, tears streaming down her face, and shouted,

"I DON'T LIKE THAT! TURN IT OFF! FIND ANOTHER SHOW WE CAN WATCH TOGETHER!"

Well, fair enough. She doesn't like violence; that's a good trait in a 3-year old.

But the next day we tried to watch Dr. Who - nope, the killer Santa robots were a bit too much. OK, then.

Last night we were watching "Ruby Sparks," a completely innocuous (and calorie-free) rom-com about a spoiled rich talented writer and his spoiled rich talented problems, and at one point a woman throws a glass of water in a man's face.

Cue the Sophie Alarm.

I have no idea how we're going to finish watching "The Walking Dead..."

How to lose an argument with a two-year-old

As part of the inevitable going-out ritual for anyone who has a two-year-old, I was trying to convince Sophie to sit on the potty before we left.

"Go to the potty. The restaurant won't have a potty."

Her response was devastating, relying as it did on brute fact to destroy the premise of my argument:

"They have toilets."

And now my job is done. The next sixteen years are just polishing.

I know where God comes from now

"It's time to go to bed, Sophie."

"Why?"

"Because it's dark and cold out."

"Why?"

"Because the sun went down."

"Why?"

"Because it's bedtime, even for the sun."

"Why?"

"Because... the laws of physics, that's why."

In our house it's TLoP, but I can totally see why someone would finally devolve to Goddidit or even just because-I-said-so. The invention of theology is a consequence of having two-year-olds.

Choosing your battles

Mommy just asked the baby if she wanted a nap. The baby's response was to flee, screaming, and fling herself into Daddy's arms.

It worked, at first. Daddy cuddled her until Evil Mommy left the room. Then baby got up and started playing again.

But after five minutes, Evil Mommy came and got baby again, and now she's sleeping in her cot.

The moral of the story? Don't mess with the government, the mafia, or mommy, because they all have infinite patience.

Why Daddy isn't writing

You think a cat on the keyboard is a problem, try this:

You'd think a ni-dan would have a better ground game

To be fair, she is armed with the invincible power of cuteness.

And a towel.

What hath we wrought?

We have created a monster. The baby has learned to crawl.

Now if you plop her down in a corner, expecting her to be there when you get back, you will be dismayed. The little monster scoots everywhere, picks up everything, and puts it in her mouth. Do you have any idea what this does to electrical circuitry?



We have had to resort to bars to keep the creature confined. Its caterwauling, however, has only become more agonizing. I suspect some kind of frequency distribution targeted to the human nervous system. The creature waits for the most unexpected times - say, 4:00 AM - before cutting loose with its auditory assault.

More disturbing, just yesterday it learned to hide under a blanket. When we expressed surprise at its sudden return to visibility, it cackled with unabashed evil glee. Does this sudden ability with subterfuge harken a more dangerous future? I shudder to think of the creature developing sufficient intellect to utilize weapons, but my co-conspirator in this research is dismissive of my fears. And perhaps she is right - the monster's claws, when applied to unprotected skin, are sufficiently painful. I have considered only approaching when suitably armored, but my partner assures me this will only display weakness, an admission I concede we dare not make.

Queen of the Dance

Here's something to make you smile:

Baby Writer

The Baby had her first solid food (rice cereal) yesterday, and today she produced her first magnum opus:

xk qh;W;KJ z mG YFJ 4FQ XZX G[0P09HULKUHNJ76M.........,O9M,.................O,KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
KKKKKKKKKKKKKK.k CCCCCCCCC CFVDW45TFV49:55 AM 11/21/2JHV 010VSZaXzzC ,M,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, VGFGGG MKFa321.a# Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv`1 2` 12 ``````4e3d cfv ``````1xzfreds x4

It's surely as moving and coherent as anything I've done. Watching her bang away at the keyboard just like Mommy and Daddy is wonderful.

Now we just need to get her an agent.