Sonar Jamming Tiger Moths

I just found out the neatest thing about moths and bats. Bats, we all know, use sonar to detect their dinner in-flight, in much the same way that submarines detect target ships or airport radars detect incoming planes.

What's super nifty in this article I just read in Science is that several kinds of moths use countermeasures to jam the bats' sonar signals. How cool is that? Who knew that there was this whole sonar battle going on over our heads in the dusky skies? It's a neat little piece of natural technology. (Thanks to Britannica for the image.)

The Way of the Toddler Calmer (II)

Last night I used another trick for calming an over-tired toddler. In this case the dear beloved over-tired 3 yr old in question was fixated on asking Mommy about a party blower that her cousins had.

After dimming the room and reading a few stories, I told her that I would go get Mommy to hear her question, but only after she went and lay down in her bean bag with her eyes closed until I counted to 60.

"one, two, three, four, ... fifty-four, 'ifty-five, 'fty-six, 'fty-seven, 'ty-eight, 'ty-niiiiine, thirty, thirty-one, ..." and so on in an ever softer voice, until I heard her breathing change and the question was safely deferred until morning.

The Way of the Toddler Calmer

Over the course of the last seven years or so, there has from time to time been one cranky toddler or another in the Diller house who was too tired to get to sleep. Most parents will know exactly what I'm talking about: a condition known variously as "over tired", "T.R.S.", "frantically tired", etc.

My early attempts at dealing with this condition were typical testosterone-soaked white-belt attempts to be tougher than the toddler, not to be manipulated, to meet strength with strength, and so forth. The predictable outcome was usually to emerge frazzled after far too long when said child finally exhausted his or herself to sleep.

Behold, after seven years training by the 3 year old masters themselves, the black-belt way: redirect and seduce.

The "I want Mommy, I want Mommy, I want Mommy" or "I wanted two pieces of cheese, I wanted two pieces of cheese..." or fill in the blank with some other demand, is actually excess of energy that needs to be redirected. The most effective method is to startle the wailing one into laughter. Witness Caroline tonight, who was crying for Mommy to stay, but Mommy was unwilling to stay after repeated violations of under-the-shirt personal space. Nothing at all against Mommy, who has very lovingly tucked and kissed and prayed and sung, but a change of character is called for (This could just as easily be Mommy switching out for Daddy). Enter Daddy, who bends down and repeatedly asks, "What? I can't hear you through all the wailing. It sounds like someone is saying I want to play in hay!"

"No Daddy" sniff! sniff! "I want Mommy to stay." Resume wailing.

"I thought you were saying you wanted to play in the hay."

Silence. "What?"

Now the moment is right. I have her attention. Time for the bait and switch.

"I thought you said you wanted to play in the hay. Does your back still itch like you were telling me earlier?"

"No" sniff sniff!

"Because I was thinking wouldn't it be funny if you got one of our chickens to climb on your back and scratch it for you?"

This silly and not actually very funny proposition provides the miniscule excuse necessary, and out comes a flood of over-energetic laughing. If you've heard it, you know it. It's too loud and it's too hard, but the release is palpable. She was just looking for an excuse to laugh, which has a lot of the same energy as crying, but it makes you feel a whole lot better.

I watch her body relax. I see the tears start to dry. I hear the shaky breaths start to even out.

Now it's time to switch into relaxation mode. The tension has been released, she's ready to be seduced into closing her eyes and sleeping. We play the make-pancakes game on her tummy. All of the ingredients are poured out and mixed up with Daddy fingers on the soft tummy. The pancakes are poured out in spirals. The loooong wait for the bubbles to form before we can flip them. The eyes closed better to imagine the smell. Anything she wants can go into those pancakes, usually chocolate chips and pecans. After a lip-smacking taste, she lies back and is asleep within a couple breaths more.

Isn't that better than cry-it-out?

Sweet Music of the Lawn Mower

Sometimes it takes a special event to snap out of a long blogging hiatus. Well, today was something of a landmark in the only father-son relationship in our house. I was out mowing when Ian came up to me. Whether or not he was in fact prompted by his mother I neither know nor care because some of my favorite words came out of his mouth, "Hey Dad, need any help?"

"Sure can you fetch me the gas can?"

It was high on a shelf, and I almost went to go help him, but then he came beaming around the corner, gas can in hand, and I thought, "Onward and upward, today." I had just asked him whether he wanted to push the mower, and he had just said yes, when there was a quick interruption. My dear wife is a little squeamish about these things and needed me to come in and help Eliza, who this morning was suffering a freak stomach bug complete with shakes and vomiting.

Porcelain intimacies all complete, I came back out to find Ian waiting faithfully next to the mower. (Unheard of, if you don't know him.) Before long, he was happily running the mower back and forth across the grass.

So for today's mowing, the new responsibility and the joy of eating up the long grass was its own reward. Look at the smile.

What a joy to watch him pitch in with such enthusiasm. It won't be too long, I'm sure, before we start to pay him for lawn mowing, but today was special. He's also learning a skill that can earn him his own real money. Adventures to come...

Thunderstorm

There is a beautiful Texas thunderstorm over Austin right now, and I would like nothing more than to be sitting on a front porch in a rocking chair watching it, listening to the thunder and the rain drops.

Busted!

Random side note before I get started: How many blog posts are titled "Busted!"?

Background: This morning during the breakfast routine, 3-year old Caroline was reaching for a box containing fresh bottles of food coloring. Given her history, I made a command decision to head off disaster and said, "Caroline, put those back please, if you touch them, you'll get color stains all over your pajamas."

Later: I'm in the bathroom brushing teeth and chatting with Hannah when Caroline appears at the door, very sober expression on her face. "What will happen if I touch what, now?" I had already forgotten the incident from earlier, and I squatted down to ask her to repeat the question. "What will happen if I touch them, now?" "Touch what, Sweetie?" "The food colors." "Oh, the food coloring bottles. You'll get color stains on your pajamas." With deadly earnest and not a hint of a smile: "I touched them." There were no (new) color stains on her pajamas.

Silence reigned in the room as I absorbed this. Hannah started to shake, stifling a laugh. "Busted," she whispered.

Moral: While backpedaling to rephrase my warning and admonition, I realized that kids listen, whether or not they acknowledge, and when it's to their advantage, they will hold you to your words. (See this post for another recent example from the same child.) To all the Daddies out there: be careful!

Blah!

For the last four days, I've been dealing with a terrible bout of flu/cold/something terrible. I never really spiked a big fever, but I did get achy all over. There were times when I could only lie in bed and moan. My wife has been such a big stud to manage everything and help nurse me through it.
I feel like today might be the final stage of the illness. Everything migrated to my head, and I've had a scratchy throat/nose/ears all day. It's been painful to swallow. I tried to take a nap without much success. One thing has helped a lot: sinus rinsing. A few years ago I bought a neti-pot and started using it periodically. It helps a lot for preventing hay fever after I work in the yard. Particularly in situations like today, too, it can make a big different. Not only did I get a huge bunch of junk out of my nose and sinuses (I'll spare details) but also the salt water calmed the back of my throat to make swallowing less painful.

Rank Exam

Today I passed my second rank exam in TaeKwonDo with Ian. We both spent three hours proving that we are worthy to wear the next color in line, orange for me and green for Ian. I'll post photos when I get them, but with wife out of town and camera in for repair, I was lucky to have a brother in law snapping a few photos at the beginning, and the photos are not voluminous in number.
Few things make a father so proud as seeing his son face a tough challenge and master it. I saw that in Ian today. This morning he woke up with the vestiges of a viral infection that left him aching all over, particularly in the legs. With minimal (for him) grousing, he got himself up and going and to the test. He probably could have convinced me to ask for a reschedule but he didn't.
The rank exam consisted of five components: techniques, forms, self defense, sparring, and breaking. The techniques (outer knife-hand block, e.g.) were not a big problem, nor were the forms (the martial arts version of a dance routine, only using the aforementioned techniques).
Self-defense and sparring were a different story, however. For the self-defense portion, we made a line of all eleven of the students testing and took turns being attacked. Based on rank we had to demonstrate defense against various levels of attack. At the orange belt level, Ian had to demonstrate how to get out of single and double handed wrist-grabs, and single and double handed lapel grabs. Although at his level, some of the counter-strikes use pulled punches, several of his techniques require him to get his attacker to "tap out," where he inflicts enough pain to make the attacker tap his leg, the martial arts equivalent of crying "uncle." For a little guy up against an adult, this is physically and emotionally draining.
Sparring, too, was a big challenge. In sparring, you are expected to show control and avoidance with those of lower rank, dominance of those of equal rank, and demonstrate your best techniques and combinations against those of higher rank. That means that Ian had to spar for four rounds of three minutes, once against a yellow belt, once against another orange belt, and two rounds against the black belts. By the end of his third round, he was wiped out and frustrated by his inability to land kicks on his instructor (3rd-degree black belt) and still had to face Oki, the 4th-degree black belt, who is the master of dodging kicks. I watched him fight back tears of exhaustion and frustration, pull himself together, and give it his best shot, which was not that bad. I managed to land only one or two kicks on Oki myself, which was considered to be a major accomplishment. He is fiendishly difficult to keep in range.
Finally, board breaking, which has never been a problem for Ian, was not a problem. He placed a perfectly aimed side kick right into the middle of his board and broke it on the first try. (I had to use the same technique on a much bigger board and finally broke it on my third try. The psychology of board breaking is pretty intense.)
Sweaty and exhausted, we earned our promotions. In the school tradition, the senior ranking student gets to chose the venue for the celebratory post-exam lunch. Today, the senior student was unable to attend, so the choice fell to Ian, who chose Waterloo Ice House, where the burgers are wonderful and they serve tater-tots or french fries.
What a great day!
Now, I'm tired, my body is sore, and I'm going to sleep.
Thanks for reading.

Clerisy

I love coming across new words while reading books, and occasionally, I find one that I really like. This time it came from John Stilgoe's Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places.

clerisy |ˈklerəsē|
noun [usu. treated as pl. ]
a distinct class of learned or literary people : the clerisy are those who read for pleasure.
ORIGIN early 19th cent.: apparently influenced by German Klerisei, based on Greek klēros ‘heritage’ (see cleric ).

Stilgoe was using it to explain why main street shops need not feel threatened by Wal-Mart and shopping malls. I could take the time to explain, but really you should read the book. It's not long, and it's quit interesting.
In any case, the word feels right to me. My nightly routine includes the better part of an hour of reading with my kids and I'm always in the middle of several books. Book lovers of the world (global clerisy) unite!

Lizard Warriors

More shameless bragging. This piece is actually several months old and has been sitting on my desk for a while, waiting for me to scan and post it. Ian was playing with perspective and shadows when he drew this. Notice how the warriors' shadows bend at the wall and how there are objects behind the wall in the distance.

Ft. Zindernufe

I present for your admiration and enjoyment a recent work of Ian's. Zindernufe is the name of the club he has formed with his best friend next door, who is his co-ruler. If only they had some subjects and some good enemies to fight.

This is shameless bragging, I know, but I'm proud of him, and I think he's good at this kind of thing. More to come soon.

The Football

I have to share another Daddy Magic Moment.

Yesterday, Ian had his brain sucked out by an hour and a half stint at computer games. (We recently took away his computer time during the week in exchange for longer times on the weekend to help him with motivation in home school.) Not surprisingly, he was drained of motivation, bored, and not very fun to be around.

Hannah was out having some away time, Lizey was napping, and Caroline was in quiet time, listening to a story CD. I suggested shooting Ian's bow and arrows with him. Nope, didn't want to do that. Read a book together? Nope. Play a board game? Nope. Finally, I took him outside and began to throw a Nerf football at him. "I can't catch," he said as he watched the ball soar through the air and hit him in the chest. "See?" He hadn't even moved his arms to try. After repeating this performance a few times, I saw this wasn't working and that we needed a change in tactic.

"I bet you can't pin me." I ran up and tackled him and promptly rolled until he was on top of me. He put his knees on my shoulders, and I made a great show of not being able to get out from under him. I "tried" all sorts to tricks to escape, all to no avail. Eventually, he started to smile, and we kept it up for a while. He especially seemed to enjoy pushing my face in the grace and watching me overreact to having grass blades go up my nose.

Finally, I got out from under him and said "Let's try again." I tossed him the ball, and he caught it. He hurled it back to me. Standing 4 feet away to ensure success, I tossed it to him again. He threw it back. Up to this point, he really hasn't been that good with a football, and lack of confidence has been a main contributor. We took baby steps. I congratulated him each time he  broke a record for number of catches in a row. Finally, when he got to 15, we stopped counting, and before I knew it, we were throwing back and forth clear across the yard together. We ended up playing catch for almost 2 hours.

I think sometimes gross-motor engagement is vital for connecting with boys. I've heard somewhere that playing catch is one of the best ways for fathers and sons to connect. I've never been too big a fan of ball sports, but after seeing the magic it worked today, I'm changing my mind.

The Ultimatum

How's this for a Daddy Magic Moment?

The Backstory: We have shared our bed in one way or another with our kids since we first had them. I have many fond memories of snuggling up to our babies when they were newborns and being very comforted by the sounds of their breathing. We have enjoyed not having to hike out to another room when the baby monitor squawks. I have fond pleasant memories of fragrant warm baby bodies lying peaceful and still between Hannah and me. Later, as each has grown up, we have graduated them to sleeping in their own room. Frequently Inevitably, however, we seem to end up with one or more visitors in the morning. This has not been too much of a problem until recently, when a developments with a certain son of mine have soured the experience.

You see, everyone but me in my family suffers from a bizarre phenomenon relating to body temperature. My dear wife, I noticed not long after marrying her, can actually make her feet get colder than the ambient air temperature, summer or (especially) winter. She has passed this skill on to our children, and the oldest has discovered that his Daddy's tummy is a nice warm place to out his feet.

Well, nice warm Daddy can only take so much of this before it becomes a problem. Things came to a head last week when I was awoken by cold feet at 3:00 in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I began to be very grumpy, and I threatened outright banishment if another incident should occur.

Are you surprised to hear that another incident did occur? No, reader, I imagine you are not. Did I have a very stern talk (yea even too stern) with my guilty son? Was I full of righteous indignation? Yes, I did, and yes, I was. It is after all my bed, and I should have dominion over it. Therefore, the matter was simple: no more getting into Daddy's bed. From now on he will go to sleep in his own room and stay there. Case closed. No buts. Go to sleep.

Well, if you know my son at all, you know that he is a negotiator and is very persistent. In the present case, his persistent negotiation was only making me angry. The conversation was going downward, fast. I was about to employ a nuclear "That's final" and walk out of the room when he issued his ultimatum. I had stood up to leave when he hurled his feet against the door, slamming it shut. His eyes were blazing as he said, "No! You can't leave my room until we've come up with a solution we're both happy with!"

(Deep breath.)

You see, he really doesn't like to be alone at night. (Can I blame him really?) And I really don't like to have squirmy cold feet put on my tum. He suggested sleeping on a pallet on the floor in my room. Who am I to squelch such negotiating skills? And we could both be happy with that.

The Diller Family Garden

Back in the fall, Hannah and I rounded up the kids and planted a vegetable garden. This time I was determined to keep squirrels, chickens, coons, kids with shovels, etc. at bay and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Thrice weekly doses of water from the rain barrels, diligent weeding, and a careful eye have resulted in a full and productive garden. From left to right in the photo are mixed lettuces, beets, three rows of broccoli, and two more rows of beets.

What's most exciting is that finally the broccoli plants have all flowered, and we are not far from having garden broccoli on the table. The plant on the right in the photo below is about half the size of a head of broccoli you might find in the store, and it is growing daily.

Off to the right of the top photo is a raised bed were there is Swiss Chard and more lettuce. 

There's really nothing quite so gratifying as putting effort into a garden and then eating from it at the table. I've had a lot of fun watering and weeding it with the kids, and of course their favorite time is planting time, when they like to go crazy with the seeds. I usually give them a row to do on their own. In this garden, it was the lettuce row, and although it is massively overcrowded in spite of much thinning, they have ownership and at least one is slowly but surely getting a green thumb

Biking Date!

My parents kept the kids overnight last night, so Hannah and I got to stay up late watching movies, sleep in this morning, and then go for a bike ride together! Look at us!

Inauguration

I have to offer my own little contributions to the flood of inauguration posting...

First of all, there is a very cool photo at CNN (click here) of the national mall during the inauguration event. It's interesting to see how the lines of sight to the Jumbotrons shape the crowds. Here's what it looks like without the crowds.

Next, I'd like to point out an opinion piece in the New York Times (click here, it's a free sign-up to view) which says a lot about the character of President Bush. The short story is that Mr. Bush's transition of power has shown a level of grace and dignity that has been unprecedented in recent history. He has been cooperative, gracious, and accommodating, in rather stark contrast to other recent transitions. He has done some work with the Congress to set the stage for Mr. Obama, and has kept his last-minute executive orders few and very open. (Contrast that with Clinton.) Transitions have been notoriously tricky for those involved: even the transition from Reagan to Bush Sr. was uncomfortable and awkward. Although he is unpopular and incompetent in the eyes of many, you cannot doubt his character and integrity. He has shown a lot of class during the last two months. Read the article for details.

Finally, and I'm saying this without any hyperventilating, it was really cool to be in the lobby of the Mechanical Engineering building with at least 100 other students, staff, and faculty during the ceremony. I noticed several heads bow during Rick Warren's prayer. We all shared a good laugh during the swearing in, and I never saw a room clear so fast as when the national poet stepped on the stage...