A Special Treat

This evening, due to a variety of interesting circumstances, I got to have one-on-one dinner with my daughter. Frankly, it was a real treat. Here are some of the highlights:

• Leah brought a sandwich bag full of coins to the table and used a toy spoon to scoop them into a Cabbage Patch Kid’s shoe. “This is my favorite ice cream,” she explained: “Penny Supreme!” She then offered me some, which I agreed was very good. She then continued: “It’s my favorite, so I looked up the recipe on xibirtz.com¹ and I made it.”

• Imagine a five-year old doing the following, all in the course of about fifteen seconds:
a) announced that she does not like black olives
b) stated that she might possibly try a black olive
c) ate a black olive
d) announced that since now she’s a big girl, she likes black olives

• Several minutes into the meal, Leah started laughing quite hard at something. I still have no idea what, but she just kept going, finally calming down enough to say, “I am not fake laughing, Daddy. Believe me!”

Sadly, I am blanking on some of the other things she said and did, but suffice to say it was a great dinner.

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1. There is no such thing as xibirtz.com. Perhaps that could be the new name for my company?

Scripture Study

A few weeks ago, we decided to start doing our family scripture study from the actual scriptures instead of the children’s storybooks. Of course, since our children are preschool age, we limit our family reading to one verse per person; and since the children cannot yet read, Anna or I whisper the words into one child’s ear, a few at a time, inviting him or her to repeat them aloud. The children absolutely love feeling like they’re reading, and we love that they’re learning to love the word of God.

This evening, we were reading in the First Book of Nephi, chapter 8. It was David’s turn to “read,” and I was whispering verse 10 in his ear. The following conversation ensued:

Jeff (whispering): “ ‘And it came to pass…’ ”

David: (giggles and whispers something incoherent—a common problem).

Jeff: “Come on, David; say it loudly: ‘And it came to pass…’.”

David: (says something slightly less incoherent).

Anna: “David, please say it nicely.”

David: “And it came to pass!”

Jeff (whispering): “ ‘…that I beheld…’ ”

David: “That I befald.”

Jeff (whispering): “ ‘…a tree…’ ”

David: “A tree.”

Jeff (whispering): “ ‘…whose fruit…’ ”

David: “Fruit.”

Jeff (whispering): “ ‘…whose fruit…’ ”

David: “I dunno.”

Jeff (trying hard not to laugh): “No, David; ‘…whose fruit…’.”

David: “I dunno!!!”

By this point, Anna and I were laughing so hard, we had to pause our reading. ^_^

Calling

For a while now, I’ve received the occasional phone call at the office, where I pick up and find Leah or David on the other end. The calls are usually brief and include a request to bring such-and-such down to them, to play such-and-such game after work, etc.. Over the last week or so, though, the calls have become a lot more frequent. So yesterday, when I came downstairs to fulfill Leah’s request for a Band-Aid^®, I asked Anna, “Are you calling me on her behalf, or does she know how to call me, herself?”

Anna: “She knows how to do it, by herself. They both do.”

Me: “Really?”

David: “Yeah, Daddy. Watch. DAAAAADDDDDDYYYYY!!!!”

Ask a stupid question. ^_^

Eyes Wide Shut

A few minutes ago, I walked into David’s room. As I did, I heard his tiny voice: “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, David,” I replied.

“What’s up?” he asked. I couldn’t believe it. So simple. So like me. He’s definitely my son.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I told him.

He smiled so big. I leaned down and kissed him, told him to get some good rest, and quietly left the room.

I never saw his eyes open. :-)

Video Girl

Okay, so this is a truly weird post, and about six weeks too late, but I still figured it was worth mentioning. Better late than never, right?

For Leah’s birthday, she received what is perhaps the oddest doll I have ever seen: it’s called “Video Girl Barbie.” Feel free to follow the link at left, but first, read on.

Here’s the gimmick: Barbie has a built-in video camera. If you look at the pictures, you’ll see that she’s wearing a necklace with a rather large charm, for the simple reason that the charm is actually the camera’s lens. That sounds kind of cool—at least they camouflaged it a bit—but here’s where it gets odd: if you open the back of her shirt (of course it Velcros in the back!), her back consists of a preview screen and various controls. It’s a Robot Barbie! (I suppose her friends—who you still have to buy—call her “Robarbie,” but I digress.)

Of course, no video camera would be complete without a way to get the video out, so pulling up the front of her shirt reveals a USB belly button. Just attach the included umbilical cord—I mean, USB cable—and upload Barbie’s optical perceptions into your computer.

Is it just me, or does this toy fill a need that really doesn’t exist?

The Placebo Effect

When Leah was a very small baby, Anna and I decided that we didn’t want to settle for an old-fashioned baby monitor; we wanted video. We purchased a cheap one from (I believe) Geeks.com, and when I say “cheap,” I mean one that the manufacturers didn’t even want to take credit for. Seriously. The thing was made on some obscure Eastern Asian nation and came in a box that said “Baby Monitor” or something like that, with no other identifying information. And yet, it worked well enough that when we moved into our current home, we bought two more: one for David’s room, one for the toy room (not that the last was ever installed).

Of course, the problem with this setup was that we wound up having two identical monitors sitting on my bedside table. What’s more, the monitors slightly interfered with each other, and often received interference from wireless networks and even radio stations around us. (Under certain atmospheric conditions, we could actually listen to the radio not on the monitor, but on the camera! Go figure that one out!) Every night before we went to sleep, I would have to position each of the monitors just so, so the static wouldn’t keep us up all night. It was, suffice to say, quite annoying, so after a while, we started looking for a better solution.

Enter ZOpid. The system was (and is) advertised as “Digital Interference–free,” which was of course a big selling point for us. It was (is) also expandable up to eight cameras on a single monitor, cycling through as many or as few as you like. Awesome. Also, the reviews were fairly positive, which is definitely a big deal.

What I found most compelling, though, was that the manufacturers themselves were right there on the forefront: every time a review included a complaint, it was followed by a comment from the engineers: making suggestions, inviting the customer to send it back, etc.. That’s a company that cares about its users’ experience (or at least continued sales). So, we bought the system and one additional camera. It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been quite good—and not a drop of interference, ever. Furthermore, the company has been very good about supporting what few issues we’ve had, even promising firmware updates to incorporate some of my feature requests and suggestions. Nice.

So about a month ago, Leah’s camera started having some issues: first of all, it would crash at fairly random intervals, requiring a reset. Second, when I tried to reset it, the reset button would usually get stuck, requiring me to fiddle with it until I could get it to pop back out. Obviously not good. So last week, I finally got around to contacting ZOpid about it. They gave me some suggestions, but none did the trick, so they finally issued me an RMA number so I could send it back. On Thursday night, I did so—without mentioning it to Leah. I held my breath as I turned off her light, but she never even noticed the empty wall mount.

Until tonight.

Those of you who know Leah may realize that she’s a very sensitive child. Her camera is very much a security blanket for her, despite the fact that she usually just gets out of bed and comes into our room, anyway. So tonight, when she noticed it was missing, the realization was met with great concern coupled with crying. I tried my best to calm her down, to explain that the camera was broken and a new one would be here within a few days, but that wasn’t enough. My little girl was scared, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Or was there?

I told Leah I’d be right back and walked to my office. I opened up the cabinet where the third of the previous cameras had spent pretty much its entire life, and where it thankfully still resided. I then returned to Leah’s room with that old camera and a roll of masking tape and used the latter to attach the former to the empty mount. The power cord wouldn’t fit (and probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway), but I was able to make it look convincing enough. The old camera isn’t compatible with our current monitor, and even if it were, it’s neither turned on nor even plugged in! But its presence is enough for Leah to feel safe and loved, and while it’s not a long-term solution, that’s ultimately what matters.

I love the innocence of youth—and I love, even more, being her dad. :-)

Dream World

David came into our room at about 6:20 this morning and lay down in our bed. As I lay there with him, I decided to take the opportunity to have a conversation with him: nothing urgent, just keeping the lines of communication open. I asked him what he did yesterday, and after several false starts (including Wednesday’s preschool activity and last Friday’s family picnic in the park), he finally started down a very… um… interesting story.

“I saw a very friendly monster!”

“Really! What did he look like?”

“He was an orange drop!”

“Oh! Like a gumdrop?”

“Yeah!”

“And where was this monster?”

“He was walking across the cornfield.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

"Was this a dream you had?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. What was the monster’s name?”

“His… his name was David, too.”

“Really! He was David 2?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re David 1 and he’s David 2?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“And there was another monster!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And his name was David, too. And he was a blue drop.”

“Really? He was a blue gumdrop?”

“No, he was a blue rain drop.”

“Really! Could you see through him?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.”

This conversation continued for quite a while, with David telling me about a few other gumdrop monsters in his dream: a green one named George; a purple one named Olivia; another purple one named Leah; and Leah’s twin sister, a red one named Carly. I asked, “And they were all coming across the cornfield together?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“And then there was a big farm monster that came and put his foot on all of them!”

“He stepped on them?”

“Yeah!”

“Wow!”

By this time, Anna was back: “What did the farm monster look like?”

David’s reply: “A FARM!!!”

Ask a silly question….