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Huggies introduces a TweetPee device, which looks to be a little bird that your kids pee on. And then it tweets.
Is this for real? I’m all for finding cool new uses for modern technology, but this seems rather ridiculous. What do you think?
(via)
This article popped up on several sites I follow. In short:
In a survey of 2,000 parents, 30 percent of the couples reportedly ended their marriages because of a crying child.
That’s a bit higher than I would have guessed. But having kids will push you to your limits, and if you’re already near those limits (perhaps due to other problems in your marriage?) then children might push you over the edge.
I posted this to the And I’m the Dad Facebook page, and someone (hi Elizabeth!) responded with her favorite advice to would-be parents, adapted from The Baba Blog:
First, get a goat, and take it shopping in the supermarket, then get a recording of a screaming colicky child and run it for 8 hours overnight, and see how you do. If you are a functional human on the next day, you stand a chance.
That may be the best advice I’ve heard in a long time.
What advice would you give to potential parents?
![Me: “What is this?”Beth: [age 4] “I’m going to roast the baby doll.”Me: “Roast? Like in the oven?”Beth: “Yes!”Me: “That’s kind of mean to the baby, don’t you think?”Beth: “Daddy, it won’t hurt her. She’s not a REAL baby. She’s made out of plastic! She’s fake! All my toys are fake, fake, FAKE! Sometimes they talk to me but even then they’re not real.”Me: “I see. As long as you roast her in your fake oven, it’s okay.”Beth: “Well OBVIOUSLY.”](http://24.media.tumblr.com/2165069727fc941920b683d36371cf83/tumblr_mi2c51WOlQ1qibvt9o1_1280.jpg)
Me: “What is this?”
Beth: [age 4] “I’m going to roast the baby doll.”
Me: “Roast? Like in the oven?”
Beth: “Yes!”
Me: “That’s kind of mean to the baby, don’t you think?”
Beth: “Daddy, it won’t hurt her. She’s not a REAL baby. She’s made out of plastic! She’s fake! All my toys are fake, fake, FAKE! Sometimes they talk to me but even then they’re not real.”
Me: “I see. As long as you roast her in your fake oven, it’s okay.”
Beth: “Well OBVIOUSLY.”
This article from Scientific America, titled “Scientists Discover Children’s Cells Living in Mothers’ Brains,” raises some curious questions.
It is remarkable that it is so common for cells from one individual to integrate into the tissues of another distinct person. We are accustomed to thinking of ourselves as singular autonomous individuals, and these foreign cells seem to belie that notion, and suggest that most people carry remnants of other individuals. As remarkable as this may be, stunning results from a new study show that cells from other individuals are also found in the brain. In this study, male cells were found in the brains of women and had been living there, in some cases, for several decades.
…This is a burgeoning new field of inquiry with tremendous potential for novel findings as well as for practical applications. But it is also a reminder of our interconnectedness.
Interesting. Read it here.
| [Scene: | Luke, age 7, and Beth, age 3, are sitting with me on Beth's bed just before bedtime. For various reasons, Beth begins hitting me in the head with a toy stuffed rabbit.] |
| Me: | "Beth, stop hitting me in the head. No bunny-based violence before bedtime." |
| Luke: | "C'mon, it's not like it has rabies." |
| Me: | "What if it did have rabies? Would that make it a... rabid rabbit?" |
| Beth: | "She's a baby rabbit!" |
| Me: | "She's also kind of reddish. Maybe she's a rabid reddish baby rabbit." |
| Luke: | "A baby rabid reddy ... rabish .... oh man." |
| Me: | "She needs a name that has B's and R's, too. How's this: a rabid reddish baby rabbit... named Barbie." |
| Luke: | "Barbie?!" |
| Me: | "Yeah, it's got two B's and an R. She also needs a location. Something that begins with the letter 'B'...." |
| Beth: | "Boston!" |
| Luke: | "Brooklyn!" |
| Me: | "Hmm... Brooklyn has an 'r' in it too... wait, how about Barbados? A rabid reddish baby rabbit, named Barbie, in Barbados?" |
| Beth: | "A red baby rabber ... Barbie... in ... Bargango?" |
| Me: | "Barbados!" |
| Luke: | "We need the word 'butt' in there." |
| Me: | "Oh please." |
| Luke: | "And 'bongos'." |
| Beth: | "Bongos that look like butt cheeks!" |
| Me: | "Okay. A rabid reddish baby rabbit... named Barbie... playing buttcheek bongos in Barbados! Whew. Say that five times fast." |
| Luke: | "I can't even say it once." |
| Me: | "Try it." |
| Luke: | "A reddish rabbit named baby Barbie... wait, what was it again?" |
| Me: | "A reddish rabid raby babbit... wait, no, a rabid reddy baby rabbit. Okay. Full stop. A. Rabid. Reddish. Baby. Rabbit. Named. Barbie. Playing buttcheek bongos. In Barbados." |
| Beth: | "I like Bargango better." |
| Me: | "Okay. We'll go with Bargango." |
| Luke: | "It should be 'buttock.' Sounds better that 'buttcheek'. Playing buttock bongos in Bargango." |
| Me: | "Does everything really need to be about butts?" |
| Luke: | "Everything already is." |
