More Words

The squeaker now says "candy" and "soda." No, we don't really give him candy and soda, but he certainly asks frequently. He also says "pizza" and "ice cream" (well, "ice cream" sounds like "um," but he's trying). This working mother blushes to report that he happily shouts "pizza! pizza!" as soon as that cardboard box is delivered. Er, who has time to cook, right?

Elephants are "ellas" and alligators are "allas." Bees still buzz, but now he also says "bee." And he identifies boo-boos and itchies, and wants kisses for the former and soothing cream for the latter.

The mattress on the floor has been a big hit. We frequently find him snuggled under the covers, paging through a book all by himself. Coloring is another favorite activity, though if you color with him, he'll frequently want to trade crayons with you, presumably because your crayon does cooler things than his does. He's also obsessed with his baby cousin; when he knows she's coming over, he waits at the window murmuring "baby baby baby." All in all, he is quite a little character.

Objective Truth and the Ballot Box

Would you vote for an atheist for public office?

It amazes me that some people still say NO to this question. Some senators have said that they would not vote in favor of a Supreme Court nominee who was an atheist. In a recent discussion of the atheist-for-public-office issue, one theist argued that they would not vote for an atheist because "to be atheist is to walk without a guide," and said he would not be willing to follow such a person. He noted that atheists typically acknowledge no objective truths, but believe truth is subjective.

But thinking about the issue in terms of subjectivity and objectivity makes little sense. After all, a religious person's perception of truth depends on their particular religion, and their own individual interpretation of that religion. Someone who uses the Koran as the basis of their objective truths is going to reach very different conclusions from someone who uses the Bible as the basis for their objective truths. And two people who use the same source can still reach very different conclusions because of differing interpretations.

Now admittedly, a believer differs from a nonbeliever in that the former believes there actually ARE some objective truths, while the latter typically does not (even if believers cannot agree on what those truths are). But why would it necessarily be valuable to assert a belief in an objective truth? Certainly we can all agree that some people who assert a belief in an objective truth are quite dangerous -- the 9/11 terrorists probably believed in an objective truth, for example.

The real difference between a believer and a nonbeliever is that the believer claims to base his or her belief system on some outside source, while the atheist's moral framework is entirely self-constructed. That gives the illusion of some predictability to the conduct and character of the believer, because voters can assess the outside source that the believer professes to base his or her beliefs on.

However, there are two problems with that, which is why I call it an illusion. The first is that individuals interpretations differ so widely that even when you can point to some outside source (such as, say, the Koran or Bible) as the basis for your personal beliefs, it doesn't necessarily reveal the actual nature of your beliefs. You may think it's OK to fly planes into buildings, or you may not. You may think it's OK to shoot abortion doctors, or you may not. You may think it's OK to protest at a gay man's funeral, or you may not.

The second is that just because a believer professes to believe in a particular religious doctrine doesn't mean that person actually adheres to the doctrine. Some Roman Catholics seek abortions. Some Christians and Jews and Muslims steal. Some Wiccans fail to respect the environment. It is difficult to judge whether someone's belief is actually sincere. And it is even more difficult to know when that person may decide it is acceptable to deviate from their professed beliefs (say, by seeking an abortion).

For these reasons, it seems to me that knowing that a candidate claims a particular religious belief or system of beliefs is essentially meaningless. The only way to assess the person is to evaluate the actual evidence of their conduct and character. Does their conduct reflect moral integrity, honesty, intelligence, compassion, and respect for people and the environment? This evaluation, and not someone's professed religious beliefs, is the only meaningful yardstick.

Perils of a Window Office

I cleaned my office. This means that I sent some towering piles of papers off to the shredder, filed lots of stuff, organized materials into binders, and put books back on the shelf. Everything is so nice and clean that I don't want to mess it up by doing work. Maybe I will just sit here and look out the window.

It took me a long time to get a window office here -- two and a half years. The lawyers in my office take the window-office-promotion policy very seriously. There is an official list of lawyers based on when you joined the office (and, for those who started on the same day, a variety of other factors); when your name reaches the top of the list and a window office is available, you get to pack up and move. Some window offices are much nicer than others, though, and whenever a window office becomes available, people who already have window offices can opt into the process to get a better one -- and they have seniority over the waiting list.

My window office is fairly nice. It's quite roomy, with blue carpeting. And it overlooks the front doors of the building, so I can always see who's coming and going (provided that I am actively looking out, instead of working). I got this office right before I went on maternity leave. In fact, my unpacked boxes sat in my office while I was on leave. And some random person used my office in my absence. She was a coffee drinker, and she must have talked on my phone while enjoying her cup of coffee. Or at least that's what I guessed, since upon my return I found that my phone receiver reeked of coffee and was covered in icky brown flecks. Eww. I had to sterilize it.

Anyway, I love my window office.

And now for something completely different -- one of my co-workers just told me that when they were planning my baby shower, another colleague wondered if I was a Mormon. :) This is because I normally don't wear jewelry, including a wedding ring. (Query: do Mormons really shun wedding rings?) In any case, I think I need to start being a little more open about my personal life. Me -- a Mormon!!! Yikes!

Flying Spaghetti Monster

Today's post is dedicated to Bobby Henderson of Oregon for his participation in the Kansas debate over evolution and intelligent design. Mr. Henderson has written a letter to the school board proposing that if the school board wants to include alternate theories, it ought to include the belief that the universe was created by the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM). The followers of the FSM also believe that every other Friday is a holiday and that heaven consists of a stripper factory (query: is this where strippers are made or what?) and a beer volcano. Worshippers must wear pirate garb when honoring their deity.

Here is more on the FSM: http://www.venganza.org

This morning's edition of the Batimore Sun's op/ed page also included a letter to the editor that noted that if intelligent design is to be taught as an alternative to the "theory" of evolution, alternatives to other theories, such as gravity, should be included. Thus, the curriculum should include explanations such as magic, numerology, and pixie dust.

Certainly the need to shore up the science curriculum is demonstrated by another letter to the editor that I saw over the weekend; this letter noted that while evolution is why cows produce more milk and chickens produce more eggs, it cannot make a horse into a cow (!!!). The letter notes that the "question of 'intelligent design' comes up only because there seems to be no other explanation for the world's complexity." The author suggests that on this basis, intelligent design is a valid scientific approach (though I wasn't aware that the process of elimination was a sound way of validating a scientific theory).

Pastafarians unite!!

Too Funny

The squeaker seems to have a newly acquired sense of humor. He's been smiling and giggling for some time, but now he seems to think things are actually funny.

The chirping birds at PetSmart are funny when they try to bite his nose through the glass. Dangling upside-down is funny. Standing on the dining room table is very funny. Hearing mama shriek when he pees on the floor after his bath is hilarious.

It amazes me that in 18 short months, he went from a tiny, helpless, unresponsive infant who struggled to breastfeed to a lively toddler who can gnaw carrots, tell me what a monkey says, and point out the airplane in the sky. He seems more child than baby now. And I love the emergence of words -- I am dying to hear what he has to say about the world.

Idle Thoughts and Ramblings

Many bloggers note that their blogs consist of "idle thoughts" or "ramblings."

What an interesting phenomenon that thinking is considered "idle," and expressing oneself through the written word is "rambling." I recognize that using these words is a kind of post-modern attempt to be self-deprecating and modest. But they have become such a cliché that it's painful to read them on someone's blog. I also think they suggest several underlying and perhaps disturbing ideas.

First, the idea that thinking is "idle." What is meant by this? That thinking is not worthwhile? That it is a waste of time? Or that these are thoughts that swirl through one's head when that person is "idle"? If the latter, shouldn't people call them "thoughts while idle"?

What does "idle" really mean?

i·dle Pronunciation Key ( d l)adj. i·dler, i·dlest

(1) (a) Not employed or busy: idle carpenters. See Synonyms at inactive. (b) Avoiding work or employment; lazy: shiftless, idle youth. See Synonyms at lazy. (c) Not in use or operation: idle hands.
(2) Lacking substance, value, or basis. See Synonyms at baseless. See Synonyms at vain.

Perhaps writers who refer to their thoughts as "idle" mean that such thoughts are "not in use or operation" -- i.e., they are merely passing thoughts, and not necessarily indicative of the way they live their daily lives. However, I fear that writers are thinking of the second definition -- "lacking substance, value, or basis." It would be most unfortunate to conclude that the valuable time people spend musing about life results in thoughts with no value.

Second, the notion that one is merely "rambling" perhaps reflects a blogger's sense that he or she is but one tiny voice in a world of billions of voices, and that he or she may or may not have anything meaningful to contribute to the worldwide conversation that we all take part in through our communications with fellow human beings near and far. On the contrary, I like to think that we all have something meaningful to say.

Or perhaps it reflects an awareness that one is writing in a kind of loose stream-of-consciousness style, rather than in the form of a tight, polished, and cohesive essay. That would be better than what I think the most likely meaning is -- that the blogger is expressing himself or herself without any confidence that anyone will hear the words he or she has written, not just because of the smallness of his or her voice, but because no one really cares to listen to anyone else. And since our modern world constantly hums with conversation -- 24 hour news casts, endless experts droning on about this or that, a virtual universe full of chat rooms and bulletin boards and private messages -- perhaps it is understandable, and even accurate, for people to conclude that their own words are merely ramblings which may or may not be read or appreciated.

In any case, optimist that I am, I'll term my own posts neither "idle thoughts" nor "ramblings."

The Beckoning Ocean

Usually, I leave for work when it's very very early -- the stars still twinkle and the night shadows haven't completely receded. But today I have to work late, so I slept in with my snuggly boy. We both got up around 8 (or at least that's when he decided to press his cheek to mine and whisper "Mama. Mama. Mama.") That means that I left the house a full three hours later than usual.

The sky is sparkly blue, the sun is shining, there's a light summer breeze, and the cicadas are singing. As I zipped along the winding back roads, I thought -- what would happen if I didn't go to work? What if I went east instead of west? What if I kept driving until I reached the ocean? I could be there in two and a half hours. I have a cell phone -- I could call in sick and spend the whole day snoozing on the hot sand and listening to the roar of the waves. I could vividly imagine turning the car that direction and zooming off. How could I give this day up to the drab office building and the hum of my computer?

But obviously, since I'm typing this, I didn't go to the ocean. I came to work. I can see the picture-perfect day through my window. Sigh. I'm sure the beach is fabulous today.

Years ago, my family was supposed to visit with my dad's relatives in Washington, DC. It was our usual annual visit, and I suppose we all expected it to be painful and dull. But on the way, my parents decided they just didn't want to go. Instead, we went to the Smithsonian. We spent a wonderful day at the museums on the mall. We didn't pull into my grandparents' driveway until early evening -- in fact, on our way in, we passed my aunt, uncle, and cousins, who were on their way out. I don't remember what excuse my parents gave my dad's family. But we all still remember that spontaneous day fondly.

Somewhere within me is an impulsive person anxious to come out.

More on Court Nominee John Roberts

I was listening to NPR this morning, and the commentators were discussing how the White House hopes that a relatively easy confirmation for John Roberts will set a precedent for the confirmation of future judicially conservative nominees. I couldn't help but to shudder at the thought. When I cast my vote in the last presidential election, I knew that for me, the real issue was the Supreme Court. But still, it's jarring to face that reality now. The nine-member Court, which is already dominated by seven Justices who were chosen by Republican presidents (not all of whom are particularly conservative, admittedly), will now list to the right for sure. I knew it would happen. I expected it to happen. And yet it is still unsettling.

Perhaps even more unsettling is my uncertainty of a valid basis for opposing John Roberts. He is undeniably likable -- people who have worked with him have almost universally noted that he is a friendly and decent fellow. He is polite to secretaries and cafeteria workers. He has two children, but did not start his family until he was in his forties.

He is married to a lawyer who apparently calls herself a feminist -- or at least she's a member of Feminists for Life, a pro-life organization that describes itself as "dedicated to systematically eliminating the root causes that drive women to abortion -- primarily lack of practical resources and support -- through holistic, women-centered solutions." It's hard to disagree with that, though the mission statement is likely intended to obscure a political agenda that involves eliminating the ability of women to chose from a full range of options that includes abortion. But how many women -- liberal or conservative -- are willing to call themselves "feminists" in our current political and social climate? It's hard for this feminist not to admire Mr. Roberts's wife for her willingness to associate herself with the word. (Though I acknowledge that the message conveyed by such an association is contradicted by the organization's legal agenda.) It is notable that Roberts is married to a career woman who calls herself a feminist and who became a mother in her forties.

In short, Roberts seems like a decent and thoughtful person with a varied and colorful background and family life. He does not strike me as an idealogue, but as an open-minded judge who is concerned about whether his positions and arguments are well-supported by the law. Even so, I suspect that most of the legal conclusions Roberts would make would be antithetical to my own. Indeed, I think it's likely that his opinions on issues about which I care deeply will be disturbing -- even repugnant -- to me. Though his positions may be well-supported by the law, they aren't the only positions supported by the law. His legal approach is simply likely to favor a particular outcome (such as a limited view of separation of church and state, or a narrow reading of the commerce clause); it does not invalidate different outcomes, since law is about persuasiveness, and not absolutes.

Is a conservative judicial approach that is likely to lead to a narrow reading of the Constitution a reason to deny someone a seat on the Supreme Court? I want to say yes, because I am wary of what the future holds if Roberts is confirmed. But I am not convinced that the fact that Roberts views are antithetical to my own values is enough to justify advocating denying him a seat on the Court. I think the judicial decisions John Roberts would be likely to support would effectively prevent justice, equality, environmental and social responsibility, and freedom from reaching full bloom. If other conservative judges are any indicator, Roberts presumably subverts those values to his own beliefs in individualism, limited government, and tradition. But I am not sure that is a valid reason to oppose his confirmation.

March of the Penguins

I finally saw this film over the weekend. Now I can't stop thinking about the penguins. Right now, they are huddled together, freezing and hungry. I want to send them care packages or something. Isn't there some way to make their lives a little easier?!?

But despite my interventionist impulses, I suppose Nature knows best. No -- that's not quite right. It's not that Nature knows best. It's that Nature simply is. We can battle it as best we can -- fight its diseases with vaccines and drugs, fight its natural disasters with warning systems and emergency plans, fight its natural system of predator/prey with our weapons and fences and surburban sprawl, fight the forces of natural selection by providing care for the weak and disabled. But the truth is that Nature is largely indifferent to us, and to the creatures with whom we share this earth. No benevolent guiding hand is behind the events of our daily lives. There is no purpose -- benign or malignant -- behind any occurrence. Some penguin chicks fall prey to birds and some human children succumb to malaria or starvation. Nature simply is, and we can rail against it and allow that reality to color our lives with grief and despondence, or we can focus on celebrating the inevitable moments of beauty and joy it offers despite the lurking shadows cast by Nature's indifference.

While watching the film, it was difficult not to personify the penguins. Indeed, the film encouraged such personification by suggesting penguin love, determination, and grief. Do penguins really feel these things? Or are they driven only by an instinct they cannot conceive of and do not understand? Can we watch their activities without imposing our own human conception of the world on them? I suppose the film seemed more like a visual poem about our own human longings and fears, rather than an objective and factual account of penguin lives. And yet I am not sure that human beings could see the penguins any other way.

In any case, I enjoyed the film. But I can't stop thinking about the penguins. I want to FedEx them cans of krill, a bunch of tents, and a hot tub.

Celebrity is as Celebrity Does

Today, the Baltimore Sun has an article on the front page about one of the hottest (and apparently more lucrative) trends in blogging: celebrity gossip. It seems that people don't really want to read about politics, travel, art, literature, science, or film -- they want to read about Britney, Jennifer and Brad (and Angelina!), Tom and Katie, blah blah blah. It's not even the wealthy trappings of stardom that intrigues people -- apparently, it's the nitty gritty details of their mundane daily lives that people want to know about -- where they shop for groceries, how they used a gas station bathroom without shoes, what they look like when caught without make-up, what ugly things they've said about one another.

I found the article pretty depressing. Certainly we all have empty pleasures at times -- not every minute must be spent in some kind of intellectual haze. But sheesh -- do we really need to deify these celebrities any more than we already have? They already enjoy paychecks that dwarf those of teachers, firefighters, and lawyers who advocate for abused children. Do people really want to spend their own short lives obsessing about how somebody else lives? Does it make people feel better about themselves or something?

It seems that the details of celebrity lives are essentially a commodity -- something to be bought and sold, and apparently there is a hefty profit to be made. I guess that's not surprising in a culture that's obsessed with acquiring material goods. The underpinnings of our consumer culture are that you need to buy, buy, buy to be happy, thin, beautiful, young. Buy this car! Buy this beer! Buy some botox! Buy this prescription drug! Buy this $3000 wedding dress! Buy this TV! And don't worry -- pay nothing until 2010!

I heard a feature on NPR recently about a rapper who wrote a song about the diamond industry. But the song didn't start out that way; initially, it was about all his material goods -- his expensive cars, his jewelry, his diamonds. A friend of his pointed out that his diamonds are the result of a highly exploitive industry, and I suppose the man found some shred of conscience somewhere, because he re-wrote the song. But still -- do people really buy "music" that amounts to someone's brag-fest about how rich they are and how much stuff they have?

I just don't understand the obsession some people have with other people's lives. They want to watch "reality" TV (what a misnomer that is), read about the duller side of fame, and hear some rapper sing about all the stuff he has. Ick. Makes me want to go live in a cave in Greece.

Break on Through to the Other Side

Yes, today's topic is a heavy one. It seems that some people around me have been thinking about this, and that, in turn, has gotten me thinking about it.

First, a word about my mother. It's hard to describe what she taught us kids about death and mortality. She has never really concerned herself about these issues. That's not to say that she's cavalier about life -- quite the opposite. I think she considers life an extremely precious and lovely thing. But it's also a delicate thing that is subject to the unsentimental and indifferent whims of the universe. Thus, as human beings, we do the best we can to live a good and happy life, and to help others live a good and happy life, but that's about all we can do. Obsessing about death (your own or someone else's) or dying doesn't contribute to a good and happy life. Trying to hang onto life at any cost leaves an essential ingredient out of the equation (pleasure). And depriving yourself of life's pleasures in order to extend your life is also nonsensical. Why deny yourself the pleasures of youth only to extend the number of years that you hobble around with a cane trying to remember what year it is?

I think she would say the essence of life is enjoying that life. When you reach the point where you are no longer able to enjoy it -- either because you intentionally limit pleasures too much or because your circumstances mean that you spend too much energy just trying to survive, I think she'd say it's time to let go. Hopefully by then, you've had a chance to live a pretty full life. But even if you haven't, there's really nothing else for it. Death doesn't wait for us to reconcile ourselves to it. That's just the way it is. Endlessly agonizing over death is not only fruitless, but it's a waste of the little bit of time we actually have to experience life and its pleasures.

In any case, I can't imagine a much more sensible way of approaching life. I think it's important to take a balanced approach. Enjoying life's pleasures doesn't mean being totally reckless with your life or health. Indeed, total recklessness would undermine your own ability to enjoy life because you probably wouldn't be able to experience all kinds of pleasant things if you acted with complete disregard for your body. But a body is meant to be lived in, not preserved.

And the last thought for the day: I know many people are troubled about their own death and the thought of their mortality. I can't say it isn't strange to consider that some day, I will cease to be. But here's the way I figure it: either I'm living, in which case I should be focusing on living a good and happy life (and not on death and dying), or I'm not living, in which case I will be totally unconcerned about my own non-existence. Either way, there's no point to worrying about death.

If You're Reading This...

How about dropping me a little note? I now see that writing a blog is a bit like shouting into the vast expanse of outer space. You craft these little bits of writing and throw them into a virtual public space, but you have no way to tell if they sit unnoticed and gathering dust, or if someone somewhere takes a minute to read and consider them. If you'd take a minute to say "hi!" through a comment, I'd appreciate it. Thanks. :)

Ishes, Turtles, and Our Separate Selves

All the Ishes in the Sea

As people who know me know, we don't let the squeaker watch TV. Well, it's not really a matter of "letting" him watch or not watch -- we don't watch TV, so there is no reason he would ever see it. We don't even watch movies with him around (which means a movie is a very rare occasion in our household these days...sigh...).

But anyway, because of his love for "ish" and turtles, we let him watch the sea turtles scene in Finding Nemo. Consequently, he has become obsessed. Last night, after nursing peacefully and looking ready to fall asleep, he suddenly woke up and slid off the bed. He ran to the door, and when I opened it, he ran out to the TV yelling "Ish! Ish! Turtles! Turtles!"

I imagine that he dreamed of the ishes and turtles all night. This morning when we awoke, it was the first thing he said -- "Ish! Turtle!"

We have created a monster. Yikes!

Some Poetry

I read this weekly column by New England mom Catherine Newman on her experiences as a mother. It's called "Bringing Up Ben & Birdie"; she has published a book of her columns. I find her a little over-the-top at times (she acknowledges that she is very neurotic), but I do enjoy her column. Today, she included a quotation from Rainer Maria Rilke, a German-language poet. Here is the quote:

"Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side by side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky."

This quote reminds me a little of one of the final scenes in the movie Sirens, where Stella starts to tell her husband what she's been up to (infidelity, homoeroticism), but then he stops her, and tells her that maybe it's better to keep some secrets.

I do think that not only is it impossible to completely know someone -- it is also undesirable. Loving someone else does not mean exhausting all of that person's possibilities through perfect knowledge of them. We always maintain something of our own separate selves. And that separateness is something to be celebrated, though it sometimes reminds us of the inherent isolation of the human condition.

Squeaky Clean

Favorite Moment of the Day

My husband stayed home with the squeaker this week. Each day when I get home, my boys open the front door to watch me come in. As I close the car door, I can hear my husband say, "Look! Look! It's mama!" Then he opens the door and sets the squeaker down.

I don't have words to describe his little joyous face. In his bare feet and rumpled overalls, he runs towards me with his little arms outstretched. He's still not great at running, so I find myself holding my breath and hoping he makes it into my arms without stumbling on the cement sidewalk. And he does. He wraps his little arms around my neck and hugs me hard, pressing his face into my neck and whispering "mama, mama." It's the best.

Not-So-Good Moment of the Day

The squeaker has mastered climbing. Forty-eight hours ago, we had a kid who was unable to get himself into dangerous places. Now we find him standing on the dining room chairs, helping himself to whatever is on the table. And once, we found him standing on the table itself, his own face the very picture of shock and alarm but also devilish delight. Suddenly, the house is full of new dangers that we have to lock up.

The Underwear Drawer

And one more squeaker story for today. The squeaker loves our walk-in closet. I have a small set of plastic drawers in there. The bottom drawer holds my underwear. He likes to empty this drawer. Sometimes, he loops a pair of underwear over one of his little arms and tries to carry it around. Other times, he uses the underwear like a rag, rubbing it on the floor. Always, I stop him saying, "Hey, put that back! That's clean! Or it was, anyway!"

So my husband tells me that earlier this week, he busied himself as usual in the closet. When my husband went in to find him, the squeaker looks up at him, holds up a pair of underwear and smiles as he declares, "Clean!" Sigh. At least he's beginning to get the right idea.

But Is it Really Clean?

A colleague of mine commented that she doesn't wipe down her 9-month-old baby's toys each night. She said it in a slightly embarrassed voice, as if she knew that I and other mothers were surely not so negligent. I was thunderstruck. Wipe down his toys? Why? I told her that I had never wiped down his toys, and had no plans to do so.

She seemed relieved, and said she barely has time to vacuum between the maid's visits. Sometimes I feel like I'm from a different planet. No one else vacuums my home except me and my husband. (Well, the squeaker does too, since he loves vacuums, but he's not too efficient.)

Anyway, how did I end up part of this neurotic generation of moms who supposedly wipe down baby toys and vacuum incessantly? We're lucky if we vacuum once a week. I clean the bathrooms when they begin to embarrass me. It's about all we can do to keep up with the daily laundry and dishes on top of our full-time jobs.

Welcome, Baby Susan.

Welcome to the world, Susan Anne Catherine Torres. Susan Torres, maintained on life support to give her fetus more time to grow, gave birth to a daughter yesterday morning. The baby appears healthy. Good job, mama Susan. Your work is done. RIP.

To My Sisters

Some of my sisters wrote the nicest comments on my blog. I love you guys. :)

I love the way people marvel at how we are so different and yet so alike. I love the way we share the same core -- the same memories of special times, the same affection for our kooky parents, the same longing to pet a certain small dog of ours. And yet with that core, we have grown so differently. We are unique and yet deeply connected. It's a cool thing to have sisters. I don't know how people navigate the world without siblings.

And yes, I love my brothers too, even though they are stinky boys.

Magic Words and Intelligent Design

Snoozing Squeaker?

The squeaker is getting his own mattress. Who knows if he'll sleep on it. But we put the crib mattress on the floor in his room, and he loves to sit on it with a book. (I know a lot of parents say this, but the kid really does love books. He can identify his favorites with a word -- "No, David" is the "no" book, for instance -- and he'll flip through them quite happily on his own.) So we got him a twin mattress of his very own. It's being delivered today.

He's also begun using a phrase of sorts -- he knows to tack the "magic word" (please!) on to increase the chances of having his request fulfilled. At night, he often pleads to nurse ("nee nees!"). But now he sometimes says, "nee nees, pease!" How can anyone say no to that??!?

Intelligent Design

So Bush, who is neither an educator nor a scientist, believes that "intelligent design" should be taught in science classrooms. A ha. Intelligent design is the theory that life is so complex that it must have been designed by an intelligent being. But mind you, it's not about God! It's just some mysterious unnamed being who COULD be God. After all, why would scientists want to be heathens?! Ick.