the Ikea Rat Launcher

40588_pe134275_s4.jpgFrom time to time, I have been known to do a product review. (Some of you may remember my review of the iPhone, and the followup discussion of the Apple iCup.) I’ve been wanting to share this product for a while, but thought it would be good to wait for the Year of the the Rat celebrations to kick in. So, here it is: a review and demo of the Ikea Rat Launcher.
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The Ikea Rat Launcher

This colorful and inexpensive device can launch an Ikea stuffed rat several feet up into the air, way up over a toddler’s head, resulting in a flying rat and a giggling toddler. (Individual results may vary.) Below are some images from our extensive testing of this product in late October of last year.

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For the full demonstration, you can watch this video.¹

This ingenious product also doubles as a storage device: rats can be collected and placed in the launcher for later launching. An attractive reptilian cover keeps the rats from escaping.
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Warning: this product is not recommended for toddler storage.

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While the Launcher appears large enough to accomodate a toddler, attempts at toddler storage may result in the following:²

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¹ Sorry it’s a bit long, at 2:42, but I was too amused by Phoebe’s belly laughter and backwards toddling to cut any of it out.

² This one’s only 15 seconds. You know you want to watch it.

big hands I know you’re the one

A couple of nights ago, during part of Phoebe’s pre-bath stalling tactics, Phoebe started to pull coins out of John’s pockets and put them in one of John’s hands. As John will often have pretty substantial loads of change in his pockets, I asked, “Are you going to be able to hold all the coins in one hand?” To which John replied that he had big hands. Followed shortly thereafter by “Big hands I know you’re the one.”

So John and I started singing “Blister in the Sun.” Phoebe dug it. We’d get to the end of the verse, and she’d say “more!” Then we played the various album versions, and we all danced. Rockin’ out in the upstairs bathroom.

(That’s a live 1984 version. If you want to hear the studio version, you can check out one called the Violent Sims, with an animated video. I also came across a video of a guy signing along the with the lyrics in ASL. Ah, the wonders of YouTube.)

murmurs

Phoebe’s last doctor’s appointment was a while ago now. Her 18 month appointment. (She’s now 21 months old.)

For those of you who haven’t taken a baby on a well visit to the doctor, they tend to follow a predictable pattern, at least in our experience. You go into a room strip the baby down. A nurse weighs the baby, and measures the baby’s length and head circumference. Then you wait a bit and the pediatrician comes in. She looks over the measurements, and pokes and prods the baby. Looks in ears and mouth, listens to lungs and heart. Asks questions about development. How much milk does she drink? Does she still drink from a bottle? Eating solid foods? Using a spoon? Is she babbling? Yodling? Falling asleep on her own? Crawling? Walking? Dancing?

We answer the questions, and it being us, we joke around a bit with the doctor. Happily, she has a sense of humor and understands when we are joking. The visit goes pretty uneventfully, typically. We learn that Phoebe is big and tall for her age. We rattle off some of her accomplishments. Things are all smooth sailing till the doctor leaves and the nurse comes in to give the shots. And then it’s over till next time.

But this last time there were a couple of things that caught me by surprise. One was that the doctor heard a heart murmur. And the other was that she thought that Phoebe’s speech was lagging.

After the visit, we got the referral for the cardiologist to check on the murmur. We weren’t too worried, as the doctor didn’t think it was likely to be a troublesome murmur. But of course we followed through. We wouldn’t take risks with Phoebe’s heart. We sought the expert opinion. And the cardiologist confirmed that the murmur is completely benign.

The speech part of the story is ongoing.

Phoebe is a quiet child, for the most part. She takes after her parents. She started saying a few words at around 12 months old, and over the following months added quite a lot of words. But the thing is, she would use a word for a day or two, and then move on to the next word. We wouldn’t hear the word again in most cases. Turtle was a favorite word for quite a while, and then yellow, and then uh-oh. And there would be all sorts of other words she’d use only once or twice, often carefully articulating. Shoe. Puzzle. Rubberband. She spent a whole day working on getting the production of hat just right, getting the /h/, and the vowel and fully released /t/ out there in a careful sequence.

So when the doctor asked for a list of words that Phoebe used regularly and consistently, we didn’t really have much of a list to offer. That wasn’t what Phoebe was doing. We could remember maybe 2 or 3 words. Ball. Uh-oh. No. There were a couple of signs and gestures, too.

What’s funny is that I have studied language development in classes, and have read a textbook or two, and attended lots of conference talks on the subject. But up to that visit, I hadn’t really given much thought to whether Phoebe’s development was on schedule. I had noticed that Phoebe was not doing the things the textbooks had described, but I figured that intro textbooks tend to overgeneralize, and that individual babies have different patterns. Actually, I still think this is the case. Phoebe was using language productively, and showing remarkable comprehension of even quite complex sentences and structures. It hadn’t occurred to me to worry. So when the doctor mentioned that she thought Phoebe was behind in her speech, and that she recommended that we get an evaluation for early intervention, I was quite startled. My first first reaction was that this wasn’t necessary. But I agreed that we would take the information and consider it before the next well visit, which wouldn’t be till Phoebe turns two.

The doctor said that at 18 months, a child should be using at least 5 or 6 words consistently. I thought our list wasn’t that far off, especially as we drove home from that visit. I remembered a few more words here and there. I realized that had I been more fully prepared, I could have presented a list of 6 or so words. And perhaps the doctor would have just taken the list as adequate to meet the criteria of her checklist.

John was a late talker. His mother doesn’t remember the details of when he started talking, but remembers that she had a sign up over his bed saying that Einstein didn’t talk till he was 4 years old, or some such. John’s family says that once he started talking, he was using complete sentences. So it doesn’t seem too surprising that Phoebe is taking after her father. She has been a cautious child, much like John was, I’m told.

But the truth is, I’ve had murmurs of doubt. I know that children do vary a lot in their paths through language development. I’ve seen that other kids were much more verbal at Phoebe’s age, and even younger. A baby who lives next door to John’s parents was producing about 60 words consistently by the time she was 14 months. A friend’s daughter was saying all kinds of words when I’d seen her when she was 16 months, making requests, chattering away. I don’t necessarily think Phoebe needs to be as verbal as those other kids, but I sometimes wonder.

She does a lot of pointing. We do a lot of 20 questions, trying to figure out what she wants. We communicate quite a lot, and things go quite smoothly most of the time. She makes observations. She names objects. She responds to questions. She’s produced a few two-word combinations. There are times when she says fairly long things which we can mostly decipher, though other times when we have no idea. She has lately even gotten better at producing words on request, as in answering “what’s that?” or “what does a dog say?” And she’ll say “please,” now, on request. Which is so freakin’ cute I can’t even tell you.

She’ll say “more” if she wants something, and point, but beyond that it’s as if she hasn’t fully figured out that she can use words to make requests. She’s been getting better at this, though. But still, every once in a while, she gets frustrated. I can’t tell what she’s pointing at. Or guess what she wants to do.

I sometimes read about the verbal progress of kids Phoebe’s age, or younger, and I feel little pangs. I know she’ll be talking soon enough. But I do sometimes get impatient to reach that next stage. And I would really love it if she called me something. She knows I’m Mommy, but she never calls me that. She doesn’t call for me. For a while she called me Ada, which I realized came from “other.” (Maybe I’ll share the story some time.) She has said Daddy for a while, but there was a stretch when she’d use it to mean “good-bye.” She’s now started to say “bye,” but may have stopped saying Daddy.

Anyhow, the upshot is that we are having the early intervention evaluation. I realized that even though I know quite a bit about language development, I am not an expert, and I certainly don’t have a clinical background. I didn’t feel like the suggestion that we see a cardiologist was somehow a criticism of us or our parenting abilities, so it shouldn’t be any different for this. I still have this nagging feeling that they’ll tell us we’re doing something wrong, or that they’ll tell us we’re overreacting. And while I have decided that I am 85% sure that they will think that Phoebe is on track, I have realized that I don’t want to withhold from Phoebe anything that might be beneficial to her, such as early intervention services. Certainly not out of some sense of pride.

So some people are coming over to our house bright and early tomorrow morning. (Or this morning, if you want to get technical, since it’s after midnight.) Which means I should be cleaning, and not writing this. Because I can’t quite get over the feeling that they will be evaluating us, and not just Phoebe’s language.

What have you been up to, little girl?

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I’m terribly behind in updating the Phoebe Blog, where I try to document some of my daughter’s activities and accomplishments. That was my foray into blogging, and I still use the same software (iWeb) I started with. It’s somewhat cool in that I can compose everything on my computer and in that it links up automatically with my media files, but it has this irritating feature that doesn’t let you keep some drafts unpublished while you publish others. Since I now have about 10 drafts in various stages of completion, I’m pretty much stuck not publishing any of them till they’re all done. So the family doesn’t get to see what Phoebe’s up to.

Unless, of course, there’s an event like Phoebe’s run-in with the law yesterday morning. Then the whole family somehow learns. (Oh, right, now you want to know. Well, you know how some phones have an emergency number programmed into the speed dial? Did you know some phones have a big, pretty red button that is hooked up to such a number? Did you know that toddlers like to push buttons?)

We’re down at John’s parents for the holiday, by the way. We came down Tuesday night, to avoid the craziness of traffic that happens the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. We’ve driven up to visit John’s dad in the sub-acute care facility each day after Phoebe’s nap. There have been a lot of late nights, too. And yesterday there was a lot of cooking. (We packed up the feast to take up to John’s dad’s.) I made mashed potatoes, delicata squash (which is much safer to cut than KC’s Death Squash), and my famous stuffed pan. (I like stuffing, but not the things that tend to be stuffed with it. So I just make the stuffing.)

Also, at the moment, my feed reader folders are stuffed full of 272 unread messages. (158 of these can be blamed on people I just started reading with NaBloPoMo. Curse you, NaBloPoMoPeople. Curse yooooouuu! Oh, right. I’m guilty of this madness, too. Curse me! Curse meeeeee!) I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to catch up. Make that “if.”

lullabies

Phoebe loves music. She loves to listen to music, and sing and dance. Her tastes are quite varied, ranging from the playful to the serious. For example, she enjoys the electronic beep-bop music that comes out of a plastic ball that flashes lights, as well as classical music played at an outdoor concert. She is also partial to the music of various contemporary musicians, including Tom Waits, Innocence Mission, and Kristin Hersh.

When she was a little baby, only a few months old, her absolute favorite song was “Thief,” by Belly. It was a song that John and I both listened to a lot, and sang along with, from the time Phoebe was in utero. We’d sing it to her as a lullaby, and sing it to her to soothe her at various times when she was fussy. When she was really riled, only “Thief” would do to calm her. I’d sing it, sometimes over and over again, and she’d sit quietly and listen. The moment I’d stop, or try another song, she’d cry.

She later became a bit more flexible in her taste in lullabies. John would usually sing “The Ants Go Marching.” I settled in to singing “Baby’s boat’s a silver moon,” a song my mother used to sing to me, and that her father used to sing to her. Later, we switched to Sandra Boynton’s “Silly Lullaby” (from Philadelphia Chickens). Then one night, not so long ago, Phoebe stopped wanting me to sing to her at night. I’d try various songs, and Phoebe would shake her head and say “no.” Which made me pretty sad.
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Lately, Phoebe’s been hooked on The Flaming Lips. We have a DVD of their music videos, and Phoebe loves it. The songs include “Phoebe Battles the Pink Robots,” which is Phoebe’s official theme song. She likes that song, but her favorite song now seems to be “Do You Realize.” In fact, she likes it so much, she has even let me sing it to her as a lullaby.

And now, to borrow a page from Tabba, who shares a song each week, I will share with you Phoebe’s latest favorite song:

“Do You Realize,” by The Flaming Lips

the downward spiral

phoebe_park_jeep.jpgPhoebe and I got to have a leisurely day together today, after a long week of not having much time together. We celebrated by going to the local playground. It was a bright beautiful day. I had fun following Phoebe around on her rounds.

I didn’t have the camera with me this time, but I did get some pictures from the last time we went, about 2 weeks ago. This seems as good a time as any to share a couple of them. It was a bright warm day last time, and the trees were showing their fall colors. (Most of the leaves are off the trees now.)

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And here’s a very short movie, showing Phoebe going down the big spiral slide. (See how much fun I have following her around?)

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What with participating in NaBloPoMo, on top of all my other life duties, this promises to be a busy month for me. I have all sorts of things in mind to write about this month, but I expect I’ll have little time and energy to follow through. And just to help keep me from letting my posts degenerate into a series of posts about what I had for breakfast, or possibly worse, posts that are just lists of stuff I meant to write, I figured I should jot down a list of my more honorable intentions.

Stuff I Mean to Write:

  • a bit of a wrap-up of my CSA adventure
  • at least one post on some language topic
  • at least one post of some redeeming social value.
  • at least one addition to the kick-ass women project
  • four more Themed Things Thursday Posts
  • at least one post on pants. A week.

make like a tree (and squirrel)

We took Phoebe out trick-or-treating for the first time tonight. Phoebe was dressed as a squirrel, and I was dressed as a tree.¹

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I love getting dressed up, and devising costumes.

My tree costume (which you can see a bit of over at John’s) was an old standby of mine, a creation I’m quite proud of. I wear all brown, wear a twig wreath on my head with a few leaves, and drape some fall leaf garlands around my shoulders. The costume was not only easy to put together, but since I happen to have various plain dark brown clothing items to disguise my body as the tree trunk, it was cheap. It only cost me about $10.00 to buy the leaves and wreath at a craft store.

I was quite happy with how Phoebe’s costume turned out, too. The squirrel to climb on my tree. It was another assembled piece of work. (I don’t really sew.) I found a grey onesie, on sale for about $3.00, and stitched a white oval on the tummy from a robe that had long since been retired to the rag pile. The tail was put together from an old fuzzy snake dog toy, and I used a Toober toy to give it shape. The ears/hat I made from an old too-small pair of Phoebe’s tights. The biggest expense was to buy a new pair of gray tights, which cost about $7.00. What’s more, the way I put it together, it can all be salvaged again, and the clothes worn as normal clothes.

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¹ John was not in costume. Or perhaps he was just a big nut.

Phoebe Lenore, abstract expressionist

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Untitled
Phoebe Lenore, 2007
White fingerpaint on red construction paper

The art world is being taken by storm by the latest works of Phoebe Lenore, a young artist who has left an indelible mark on the hearts of her public, as well as on the walls of her living room.

The artist follows in the footsteps of the abstract expressionists, and her bold and spontaneous works have been compared to those of such venerable greats as Franz Kline and Robert Motherwell.

When asked about her inspiration for her most recent work of art, the artist replied simply “moo.” It is left up to us to decide whether she was referring to the moon, or to the cows which live nearby her Massachusetts home. This ambiguity is characteristic of both the artist’s subject matter, and her conversational style. The viewer (or listener) is asked to interpret possible meanings, and is invited to respond based on intuition, emotion and past experience.

While the artist is new to the medium of paint, she has long been experimenting in other media. Her earliest works included avant-garde three-dimensional works in sweet potato and pureed petits pois, large installations of toys and found objects, as well as rawly emotional performance art pieces. The works for which she is best known are undoubtedly those in a somewhat more traditional medium: the drawings in her series of Crayola on newsprint. This series expresses the gauntlet of human emotions, from the joy of seeing doggies, to the angst of approaching naptime. Her choice of color and line are often vivid and playful, reflecting an almost childlike naïveté. Other drawings reflect a starkness revealing the artist’s capacity for solitary introspection and her metaphysical musings.

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Above: Selections of Phoebe Lenore’s famed series of crayon on newsprint drawings.
Below: The artist has branched out, experimenting with the Crayola medium on a three-dimensional wood surface.

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This post is being displayed as part of this week’s Monday Mission, an exhibit of art critques of up-and-coming young artists.

pushover

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Phoebe and I went to the playground at our town park this morning before lunch. She’d been at daycare the past 3 days, and we didn’t get to spend much time together Monday, either. So I was determined we’d go do something fun together today.

The playground was more crowded than I’d ever seen it. Actually, there have been a number of times when we’ve been the only ones there, and other times when we’ve seen only a couple other kids. Today, though, there were a half dozen or so mothers there, and maybe 10 or so kids. I had the sense that a number of the mothers knew one another, so perhaps it was some sort of play group. A few of the mothers seemed moderately friendly, and I had at least one in-depth conversation about the the unexpected warmth of the day, and the duration of the recent rain shower.

There were several kids close to Phoebe’s size. Phoebe was interested in watching them, but didn’t interact much with them. There was a bit of smiling with one other toddler, and another kid who tried to get Phoebe to chase him, and then another kid (or maybe the same one) who tried to play with Phoebe. At some point, a couple of kids were walking away from the play equipment down a nearby path. Phoebe started to follow, from a bit of distance. One little boy, perhaps 2 years old, turned around and walked right up to Phoebe. I thought perhaps to meet her. He reached his hand out toward her, and I thought “how cute.”

Then he pushed her over. Gave her a good solid shove, and knocked Phoebe right over. Then he said something like, “you go back there.” Phoebe sat on the ground, and didn’t make a peep. She just looked. I was behind her, so I couldn’t see her face for the whole interaction. But she seemed, more than anything, surprised. Perhaps wondering if this was a usual form of interaction.

Anyhow, the mother asked her boy to apologize, and we wandered our separate ways without further incident. We climbed some more, and went down slides, I pushed Phoebe on the swing. Then we went home.

When we got home, I told John about our park visit. What was the first thing I told him about, do you think? I’m sure you guessed it. The shove. Even though there were more pleasant interactions, and lots of fun was had, the one brief mean act stuck with me. It was the first time that I knew of where Phoebe had been subjected to a random act of meanness. And as I mentioned the incident, Phoebe watched me very intently, her eyes huge. I realized that I was reinforcing her memory of the unpleasant incident. So I talked about all the goood things we did, and the nice kids.

This sort of thing happens so often. The one bad incident overshadowing the good ones. The one rude person making more of an impression than all the largely polite ones. I remember this a lot from working in retail. In a day when I’d help 100 moderately pleasant people, a single interaction with an asshole of a customer would tarnish my whole day. (Is it just me?)

Anyhow, it was a fun visit to the park, dammit.

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