More Proof that Larry Summers is an Idiot

The esteemed former (thankfully) president of Harvard insinuated that females, well, we just aren't genetically cut out for those *hard* subjects like science.

I'd like to introduce him to my 7 year old daughter.

On Saturday, she woke up and asked if we could do a science experiment. "Sure," I replied, "What did you have in mind?" She'd read something about the effects of salt in water in one of her Discovery Kids magazines and wanted to test it for herself.

So, she directed me to fill two ice cube trays with water. She got out all of the measuring spoons and painstakingly measured different amounts of salt into each cube. Then she diagrammed it all on a sheet of paper, taking careful notes as to which tray had which amount of salt.

Finally, she set a timer. Every single hour, for the entire day, we took it out and wrote down her observations.

The salty ice cubes are still in the freezer, 5 days later, because some of the damn cubes haven't frozen yet. Me, I'm ready to reclaim the ice cube trays for real ice...but she wants to continue the experiment.

We talked to my parents tonight and I had to wrestle the phone away from her ear. She wanted to tell them about every detail of every cube. I knew I needed to intervene when she told them, "The one with one pinch froze right away on May 13 at 11 am. The one with two pinches took a little longer." I guess if anyone wants to hear that level of detail, it would be a grandparent...but still....

I've got a girl who loves math and science and thinks that the best fun in the world is a science project.

I've got a boy who has a huge imagination and makes up story after story about imaginary friends.

Anecdotal, yes. But my experience has taught me that although gender may affect behavior patterns and physical preferences, it doesn't really affect intellect.

Someone out there - please enjoy an iced tea for me. It's going to be a while before that ice cube with two tablespoons of salt freezes and I can reclaim my ice tray. Until then, I'll just revel in the fact that I can help prove Mr. Summers wrong.

The Beautiful Game

Son D. is on his first real soccer team. It's a U-4 team (kids 4-years-old and under, for you non-soccer-moms out there.) His particular team is mostly 3-year-old girls.

His last game was on Mother's Day, and he was the only boy and the only 4 year old playing that day. Just him and the 3 year old girls.

*Every* time he got the ball on Sunday, he passed it to one of the girls. Every single time. Now, these girls are adorable and lovely...but they are not really into the soccer part yet. They'd much rather count clovers or wave to their moms than kick the ball. They are 3, after all. (D is 4 1/2 - almost 5.)

D. would get the ball. He'd pass to the girls. They'd smile a glorious smile at him as the opposing team swooped down to steal the ball. Every time.

Luckily, they don't keep an official score at this level. The opposing team was all older boys. And they took the ball and ran right for the goal at every opportunity they got. They didn't pass. They didn't even look around. They just scored. I think the score must have been 30 - 0 or something like that by half time. (I could ask D. - he keeps score in his head. Every game, he knows EXACTLY how many goals each team scored.)

It was getting a bit embarrassing - this lopsided score. So, at one of the breaks, I whispered to him: "D, you can run with the ball, you know. You don't have to pass it every time."

He looked at me in horror. "But Mama - the girls are my TEAM. You have to play with your TEAM! We all have to play together, Mama."

I hugged him tightly to my chest and told him that he was exactly right.

In a few years, I suspect he may very well be one of those aggressive boys who want to score a goal at all costs. But I'll always remember my Mother's Day gift of 2007: a sweet son who reminded me that winning isn't everything.

On a happier note..

The bird has definitely taken up residence in our mailbox. When we come home in the afternoon, s/he is almost always snuggled in there. (I assume it must be a she? Do male birds make nests, maybe?)

It's very cute.

Back from Chicago...

I just got back from a work conference/meeting of all of the marketing people across the country. The good news: there is new management and they are reorganizing our entire department with a new plan. The bad news: All of our jobs go up on Monster.com and Career Builder tomorrow. We all get to re-apply for our jobs complete with resumes and interviews and everything. Let's just say that the level of anxiety at the conference was a bit high. Especially for those of us with part time positions.

Everything will work out. Always does. And if not, I'll start practicing my very best "You want fries with that?"

Sigh.

You've got Mail

A bird decided to make a nest in our mailbox. Normal people would just relocate the nest to one of the hundreds of thousands of trees in the neighborhood. But normal people do not have a seven year old daughter who feels that destroying any habitat is an evil act.

So....it was a new mailbox for us.





And a deluxe habitat for our friend the chickadee. He greets us each morning as we go out to wait for the bus.

Letter to the Decider

Hey Mr. President:

I was reading "Geeky Mom's" blog today:
http://geekymom.blogspot.com/2007/05/destruction-of-human-life.html

and it occurred to me that you and I, we have something in common.

We both value human life.

We disagree a bit on the definition of life. Me, I think life begins about 7-8 weeks after conception. Don't ask me how I came up with that random designation. I just did. To me, things like birth control or the morning-after pill or stem-cell research...those don't harm life. And you: you think life begins at conception. Me, I think death row criminals are a "life." You think they should be executed.

But I'm wondering. Can we compromise a bit here?

Can we agree that ALL life is precious? That the lives of civilian Iraqi children are precious? That the lives killed in this poorly executed, destructive war are precious? That war should only be used as a last-resort, "absolutely-nothing-else-has-worked" kind of diplomatic tool?

Maybe we could both soften our political views in order to embrace life of all kinds? Maybe you could admit that hundreds of thousands of innocent victims have died because of a mistaken war. Maybe my side could realize that at *some* point, an embryo has a soul and and a heartbeat and we should do everything possible to make sure that it has every chance to have a full life.

I think we need a new political party. We'll get the pro-lifers from the right and the peace movement from the left. We'll stop arguing about marginal issues like parental consent and surges and the exact length of the waiting period for gun purchases.

We'll march for peace. We'll oppose the death penalty. And we'll work to find ways to make abortions rare and unnecessary.

I'll compromise if you will.

Evening Stroll

The other night, Daughter D. announced that she would like the family to take an "evening stroll" after dinner.

"A what?" I asked. ('Evening Stroll' not being in my daily vocabulary.)

"An evening stroll," she replied. "That's when the whole family goes out after dinner and takes a walk around the neighborhood."

And so we did. And we did it the next night, and again the night after that.

3 nights later, and it's my favorite part of the day. She's got some good ideas, that daughter D.

The highlight of tonight's stroll was son D. pretending to be a GPS device. Using the same exact voice on his Dad's Garmin Nuvi, he instructed us at each corner to "turn left in 200 feet onto xyz road." When we got back home he announced, "Arriving at destination."

I'd like to think that there is a slight chance our children won't grow up to be techie geeks. But looking at who their parents are, that is unlikely.