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Educational

Today we had a meeting with Ian's daycare folks. Sort of a parent-teacher conference, as it were. Always nice to get the perspective of someone else on your child. Short version: he's doing very well. Likes music, enjoys socializing with other babies, and has a lovely time in general. He'll most likely be moved up to the next age bracket in April.

Of course, because the day care folks were busy doing these meetings all day, I spent the rest of the day minding the squab. Took him to Barnes & Noble, where he napped whilst I perused the shelves. Fun.

* * *

Some things I've learned recently:

  • While feeding Ian baby food, if I follow the delightful taste of pears with a spoonful of peas and he begins to gag, if I begin tapdancing across the kitchen heying-and-hoing while waving my arms like someone's set my hair on fire, he will not gag but instead crack up. A fair trade, says I.

  • According to the woman who cut my hair yesterday, gray hair starts at your scalp. As my hair is now shorter, it looks grayer. Mortality marches on.

  • Marijuana will stimulate a cat's appetite. No, they don't smoke it; you blow the smoke in their ear. This I learned from the vet tech Andy saw last month. He claimed this information comes from scientific research (possibly conducted in his apartment, but maybe not).

  • Fans of 1st edition AD&D should remember the githyanki, baddies from the Astral Plane seen decorated the cover of the Fiend Folio. They were created by Charles Stross in an article in White Dwarf, and are based on creatures from George R. R. Martin's book Dying of the Light.

  • The Four Tasty Treats of the Snackpocalypse are Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Hostess Cupcakes, and York Peppermint Patties.
Reading: Eric, by Terry Pratchett.

Comments

I'm giggling thinking of you blowing smoke in your cat's ears!

York Peppermint Patties could never be sufficiently menacing to herald the Snackpocalypse. Now, Snowballs, on the other hand, are a shoo-in.

While feeding Ian baby food, if I follow the delightful taste of pears with a spoonful of peas and he begins to gag, if I begin tapdancing across the kitchen heying-and-hoing while waving my arms like someone's set my hair on fire, he will not gag but instead crack up. A fair trade, says I.

Oh come on, man, you just can't put that description up there without an accompanying YouTube video. Hop to, chop chop!