Les Bonnes Choses

There are certain topics of study that the media seems to really find 'sexy'. I've seen enough newspaper articles and evening news clips to have formed a pretty good idea of the sorts of things that make a good general interest story about how amazingly cool brains are. Stories about interpersonal relationships and communication are a good example -- everyone has heard of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, which, despite being a pop-culture book, has a crunchy (as opposed to soft and fluffy) foundation of scientific research. Developmental psychology also seems to be sexy enough to garner lots of funding -- after all, the next generation is already going to be handicapped by an educational system designed with the social goal of maintaining and improving self-esteem (as opposed to actually, you know, educating). And stories about the amazing capabilities of the child's mind are prime grounds for a news cast's obligatory feel-good content. Given the newsworthiness of stories such as these, it seems we still have a way to go until we realize that, yes, even babies are really smart. They had better be. Have you ever seen a pigeon? Their heads are really small, and that includes the beak. Their brains are even smaller, but you (or someone qualified) can teach a pigeon how to do all kinds of things. If your child is getting pwned by a pigeon, you need to ask yourself some hard questions.

Now, Le P'tit Monsieur? He's on top of things. There's still lots of stuff he doesn't know, but what he does know is that, when he wakes up in bed at, say, 9pm, and doesn't have a boob at the ready, the surefire way to remedy the situation is to wail. One thing he hasn't learned yet is the poker face. As I pick him up from the bed, his screaming only intensifies. It isn't until I hand him off to his mom that he stops. Immediately. And then grins at me. He apparently doesn't know what I do for a living. He doesn't know this yet, but he's also grounded until he's 13.

Uncle Bill's here. I'm off to the cottage now. See you Sunday!

No, you're not. You're grounded.

Wha..? Why?

Go read my blog. By the time you find the relevant entry, you'll be free to go out again.