Lela Davidson's Blog, page 38

Ask the Bubbly: Babies Laughing at Paper

Today's question comes from a father who never had the chance to rip paper for his son.

Pity.

Or is it?

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Dear Lela,

What's up with all the laughing baby videos lately? And why didn't any of those parenting books tell me that I could get my kid to laugh just by ripping up paper? This could have saved me a lot of sleepless nights when my kids were babies. I sure wish I had known about this miracle baby-enchantment strategy then. I feel cheated.

Frustrated Father

Dear Frustrated,

Take heart, and enjoy the videos while you can. The baby-laughing-at-ripped paper phenomenon will be short-lived. The reason you never read of this supposed miracle baby charming technique is because it is not a time-tested method. Unlike tickling a baby's belly or dancing him around to vintage Britney Spears, these seemingly innocent giggling baby antics are nothing but precursors to what is referred to in the trade as meltdown. (Not to be confused with blowout, which is a marked discrepancy between human elimination and diaper capacity.)

Videos of babies laughing at ripped paper last approximately one minute. You do not see the moments preceding or those following. Note that the baby paper film genre is dominated by male directors. At some point during the day of filming, this man receives a rejection letter of some sort, a past due utility notice, or mortgage statement with an unfavorable escrow account adjustment. Just prior to making the video, his gainfully employed partner says something to the effect of,

"Get your lazy ass off the couch and do something around here."

At this point, the man chooses from among the many household chores what he believed to be the easiest task: childcare. And because he is Daddy, aka the Fun Parent, he passes the time with Junior by making him laugh. Specifically, he rips the offending rejection or bill. (My sources have no idea why this works or how it has caught on so quickly, but I suspect it has something to do with the influence otherwise unemployed daddy bloggers.)

Daddy rips; baby laughs. It works.

For about one minute.

Then Daddy bores of this tiresome routine, because let's face it, watching babies laugh isn't that satisfying, not like picking March Madness brackets or eating an entire piece of leftover pizza in two bites. So the funny man stops the show and the baby starts to cry. Translation of baby's wails: "What do you think you're doing? Get back here and rip me some paper, Fool!"

Here's where Mom steps in. No one has actually seen one of these videos. No one wants to.

Enjoy the foolishness of others, but consider yourself lucky, not cheated. At least during your sleepless nights there was a chance, no matter how slim of sex. Not so for the paper rippers.

Got questions? I've got answers:

Girl Scout Dilemma

Ask your own questions in the comments or drop me a line.

Image Credit: Creativesam, Flickr

If Charlie Sheen Lived on My Cul-De-Sac

I think Charlie Sheen is or is soon-to-be broke, and he obviously needs some down time. Perhaps what is best for him is to settle into a nice, quiet, suburban neighborhood for a while. Mine's as good as any, with plenty of undervalued five-bedroom houses for sale. That's plenty of room for the kids, the entourage, the hookers and blow. I'm giddy at the prospect.

If Charlie Sheen lived on my cul-de-sac:

~ block parties would be fun again.

~ his yard would look both bitchin' and gnarly, BUT

~ he would SO get written up for not bringing in his trash bins.

~ we could all stop trying to get high off Ritalin and Nyquil.

~ I would ask him to tutor my kids in Greek mythology. Hello? Adonis DNA? Beds goddesses?

~ he could teach the rest of us how to deal with fools and trolls.

~ I would stop bugging the doctor next door to call in prescriptions and get Charlie to cure my Strep with his brain.

~ a LOT of people would be praying for him. A lot.

Most importantly, if Charlie Sheen lived on my cul-de-sac

~ I would no longer be the last person invited to the carpool.

Don't tell me Sheen wouldn't fit in here in Suburbia. His life is perfect, remember? Just like all of ours.

Just Trying to Keep Up

I taught a class a few weeks ago. Believe me when I tell you I am *super* tech savvy, which is why I gave my students the option of paying me through PayPal. However, on the day of class a few people showed up unpaid. When one young guy asked if I accepted credit cards I said, "No, but you can just send me a check."

Of course he said, "What's a check?" and made everybody laugh self-consciously while adjusting their reading glasses.

Things are changing quickly. It's hard to keep up.

Some of my writer friends were recently discussing internet access issues when my son was in the room. I was pretty sure "dial up" went right over his head.

"Do you even know what a modem is?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said while rolling his eyes, "It's the thing that gets your wifi."

PS – If anyone knows what the "fi" in wifi stands for, please share.

Department Lazy: Who Reads ALL the Labels?

From where I sit in my home office I can see my bookshelves, stocked with reference materials and favorite fiction, the portraits of my children used on a magazine cover last year, and some of my favorite mementos – like the brass cube from Arthur Andersen and my Junior League Star award. (Stop laughing.) I can also see the oversized decorative clock that my mother sent us for Christmas.

At least, I think my mother sent a clock.

I realize that we've never discussed this clock, my mother and I. It's not that I'm ungrateful; it's just that there was a special UPS delivery route established just to handle Mom's QVC purchases this year. What? They have good deals! There were so many packages that I stopped looking at the labels. Some everyday items ended up under the tree. Is it terribly nerdy to admit how excited I was to open my Parenting Squad business cards on Christmas morning?

Anyway, I should call my mother and thank her for the clock. And find out if it really shouldn't have been delivered to my neighbor.