No Dad. You are wrong...

I have to write this one down before I forget it.

I was just upstairs reading Ryan a few books before his afternoon "rest time". We can't call it "nap" anymore because 5 year-olds don't nap, at least according to our resident 5 year old. Anyway, I always give him a choice of books, and today I jokingly asked if he wanted to read "Your Inner Fish", a college level book about human evolution written by Neil Shubin, instead of the latest "Power Ranger" cartoon book.

"Wait. Inner Fish?" he asked. "Do I have a fish inside me? I thought they were all in the tank."

"No, you don't have a real fish inside you," I answered. "But since we evolved from fish 400 million years ago we all have little bits that come from those fish."

"Dad," he said in a condescending tone. "I have skin, not scales."

"I know, but you do have some bits left over from the process of evolving from those fish."

He looked at me, clearly not getting it. I had to try a different tactic. "You know how you have that LEGO set where you can make two different motorcycles OR a car from the same parts?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we built the motorcycles first and each cycle looks pretty cool. But if you take those pieces apart and built the car, you have a car that isn't exactly like one of those motorcycles, but you can still tell that some of the pieces came from the motorcycles."

"Oh," he said, apparently getting it. "But that's because they did come from the motorcycles. I took them apart myself."

"Right. And that is the same thing that happened with us and fish. Evolution sort of took the fish parts and made us."

"You mean if we look at us, we can see fish parts inside?"

"Kinda."

And then he said my favorite thing of all time, "I totally want to read this book now."

So I grabbed it off the dresser and we fell onto the bed, one of us eager to impart the beauty of evolutionary biology to my son, and the other of us totally ready to find out whether he could breathe underwater.

We just basically flipped through the book looking at the pictures, and it all started well when we got to the first image of what we science geeks like to call "homologous limb structures", but what dads need to call "same arm bones". There were 4 pictures, each one showing the front limb of an early transitional tetrapod (translation: fish with arms).

Image similar to the one in the book. This one also includes
Tulerpeton, which is not found in the book.



"Which of these looks most like our arm?" I asked Ryan.

He pointed to the Acanthostega image which did, indeed, look most like our arm.

Then I asked him, "Which of these do you think we are more closely related to?"

"This one," he said, pointing again to the Acanthostega.

Cool! He seems to get it, but anyone can make a guess, so I ask him the next, more important question. "Why?"

Again with the condescention. "Cuz it has those little bones which look like my fingers and the other pictures don't." If he were a few years older he would have thrown in a "Duh, dad!", for good measure.

"Good!" I am fairly excited at this point because this kid seems to be getting something that my high school and college students sometimes fail to grasp.

On to the next pictures. These are just of a cladogram ("Evolutionary Family Tree") which shows relationships between humans, dogs, fish, and jellyfish, and a few other animals. He asks what it is and I tell him that it just shows that we are all related and that he has animals like a jellyfish in his really distant family tree.

"Older than Nonnie and Papa?" he asks

"WAY older than Nonnie and Papa."

"Older than the Dinosaurs?"

"Yep. They dinosaurs went extinct 65 million years ago, and these Jellyfish were around about 500 million years ago or so.

"Nope," he says with total confidence. "Dinosaurs went extinct 65 hundred ten hundred thousand years ago," - We are still working on his large numbers - "You are wrong."

"You are wrong," I say with the confidence that a masters degree and 11 years teaching the subject will give you. "65 million years ago."

"Whatever dad."

Really? Whatever dad? When did he become a 13 year old?

Anyway, the next set of pictures we flipped to showed one of the more interesting bits (at least to a 5 year old) of our "inner fish".

"Hey!" he shouts as I initially flipped past this picture. "You missed one."

I flipped back a page and, sure enough, he was right. I missed one.

"Those are testicles," he says, pointing at the picture. Then, smiling and grabbing at his groin, "I have testicles."

The were two sets of pictures on this page. One set was of a dissected shark showing the location of the testes, way up in the body cavity near where an armpit would be. The testicles Ryan noticed were on a line drawing which showed how during development, the human testes form up in the armpit area and gradually descend into the pelvis.

"Why does that little man have testicles in his armpit?" he asked.

"Because we all have testicles in our armpits when we are developing."

"So I peed out of my ARMPIT?"

"No. Back then you had an umbilical cord so you didn't pee out of anything. Besides, testicles don't have anything to do with peeing." Whoops. I realized my error a fraction of a second too late.

"What are they for then?" asks the five year old innocently.

Tactfully, I changed the subject. "Can you IMAGINE having to pee out of your armpit? Wouldn't that be WIERD?"

He laughed. "Totally wierd!" Then he proceeded to pretend he was peeing out of his armpit for the next few minutes.

"A snail poops on its head!" I said naking sure the subject stayed changed, "and an abalone has 5 butts!"

"I want 5 butts!" he shouted and proceeded to pretend to pee out his armpit and make as many farting noises as a 5 butted abalone.

Evolutionary biology might fascinate his dad and hold Ryan's interest for a little while, but pee and fart jokes are still a 5 year olds favorite things.

Ethan! What does a duck say?

During car rides to keep the Littlest Doyle happy, we have taken to playing a game called "What does a (blank) say?" Ethan is typically good at it, but has a few mistakes. The following illustrated guide will give you an idea on his progress.











As you can see, we gotta work on a few.

A night of soccer with Ryan

One thing that most people know about me is that I love soccer. I played most of my life (with a few years off here and there for a variety of reasons), I coached for 7 or 8 years at the high school level, I play on an over 30 team, and I plan on coaching my sons Muppet soccer team in the fall. I stopped coaching high school due to the time requirement and I have been totally happy with the decision. However, sometimes I totally miss it. One of the things I miss is getting to see a different side of the students I teach. It is almost impossible to connect with students in the classroom in the same way that you connect on the practice field.

The other night I had a chance to take my son, Ryan, to watch the old Mustangs battle it out for the regional championship against the Vikings, a team that, to be honest, was their superior in almost every way. Ryan doesn't do well with sitting around and he kept asking me when he could go on the field and run.

"When can I run, dad?"

"Not right now. In a little while."

Ryan sat there vibrating in his seat for about 7 seconds. He turned and looked at me, pleading. "How about now?"

"Not yet. In about 20 minutes you can run."

This conversation repeated itself about 5 more times, and then the Mustangs, against the run of play, put one in the back of the net. The game now stood at 1-0 with about 15 minutes left in the first half. The rest of the half passed uneventfully and at halftime, we proceeded to run around the base of the stands for the entire time. We played Follow-the-Leader which basically consisted of Ryan running as fast as he could while I trailed behind trying to keep up. This kid of mine has limitless energy. One of the things that made this a little wierd were all of my current and former students who were cheering us on. Oh well. It is good for them to see that I can do more than just tell stories and occasionally teach them some biology.

The second half began and proceeded in much the same manner as the first, only with the Vikings pressing even harder and the Mustang defense working that much more to maintain their slim lead. With about 5 minutes to go in the game, a poor clearance on a corner kick saw the ball pop out to a Viking player who hit a 20 yard shot into the upper corner making the score 1-1. A few minutes later the buzzer sounded and the game went into "golden-goal" overtime.

At this point in the game, Ryan was getting a bit cold and began arguing that we needed to leave so we could go get ice cream and warm up. I pointed out the flaw in his logic, and he simply repeated his position louder and with more jumping up and down. I told him that we had to wait until the game was finished before we could go, and he reluctantly agreed that he did, in fact, want to see the end. So with that discussion at an end, the first period of overtime began.

It wasn't long before an injury to one of the Mustangs put a stop to the action. This injury was serious enough to require the assistance of an ambulance, and Ryan had a bunch of questions.

"Why is that girl lying in the ground?"

"Well, she seems to have gotten injured," I replied.

"What does 'injured' mean?"

"It means that she got hurt. Someone pushed her over."

He looked at me, a bit puzzled. "Why would someone push her over? That isn't nice."

"No," I said. "It isn't nice. But sometimes that is how the game is played. Two people going for the ball don't always agree on which of them should have the right to get it."

"You mean like when Ethan has my ball and I want it back so I push him over or hit him and take it from him?" he asks, seemingly oblivious to the what he just admitted to doing.

"Yes. Like that. Only you shouldn't do that to your brother. Unless you two are both playing soccer and you are both going for the same ball. Then it is ok. Except if you are playing for fun in the backyard, then it is not ok. But if he has the ball and is dribbling it, go ahead and take it. Except that he is not even 2 yet, so always be nice to him." Man, this parenting thing is hard.

"Ok. Well, why is she going into the ambulance?"

Not really thinking it through, I said "Well, the ambulance takes care of people when things are wrong with them. Remember when mommy had to go in the ambulance when she was gonna have Ethan?"

"Yeah...OH! So the girl got pushed over and now she is going to have a baby?"

I busted out laughing. "NO! She isn't going to have a baby!" At this point, some of the fans are looking at us a little funny. "She is not going to have a baby. She probably hurt her leg and the people in the ambulance will take care of her until they get her to the hospital."

"Oh," he said, slightly disappointed. "So no baby?"

"Nope."

"Just a hurt leg."

"Yes," I said, thankful that we were done with the baby talk.

After a few more minutes, the game got undeway and the first overtime period ended with no one scoring. The second one began and right away, unfortunately, one of our girls made a bad tackle in the penalty box which resulted in a penalty kick for the Vikings. Our goalkeeper got a hand to it, but it wasn't enough to stop it from going in and the game ended in a 2-1 defeat.

It was an unfortunate way to end the season, but the girls put in a great effort and Ryan got to learn that ambulances are sometimes good for things other than childbirth.

You want to do what with that bird?

I have found that there are some things about my boys that are predictable.  That they will wake up between 6 and 6:30 on most days, that Ryan won't eat whatever we have prepared for dinner, and that Ethan will quite literally eat anything we put in front of him are things that you should bet on.  Also, like clockwork, if Ethan sees a car he will immediately point and say "CAR!" over and over again.  He is incredibly excited about each and every car he sees and wants to share his love of all things automotive with each and every person within earshot.  "Daddy!  Car!  Mommy!  Car!  Ryan!  CAR CAR CAR!!!"

One thing that I would never have predicted involved Ryan and a robin.  We got home last night around 6:15 after fighting traffic for almost an hour.  We had been discussing dinner and I had been messing with him, as per usual.  

"So, Ryan.  How do you feel about chili tonight?"

"No.  No chili ever," he said.  "I'll never eat chili."

"How about chicken?"

"No.  I'll hate chicken for twenty-hundred years."  

"Wow.  That is some profound hatred for chicken.  How about squirrel?"

"No, dad," he said, exasperated.  "No wierd dinners with animals in them."

"No animals at all?  Not even a penguin?"

"No!  I won't ever eat animals, especially not penguins!"

Eventyally we got home and he immediately unbuckled his seatbelt, jumped out of the car and took off running around our front yard.  This is nothing new since he typically has enough energy to power a small country, but what was unusual was the reason for his running.

I looked up to see him hiding behind a tree, glancing around the side like he was stalking something.  I asked, "Ryan?  What are you doing?"

"Trying to catch a bird," he replied in a whisper.  "Shhhhhh."

"Oh," I whispered back.  "Which bird?"

He pointed to a robin about 10 feet away.  "That one.  He looks good."

"Birdy!" yelled Ethan, pointing.  "Tweet!  Tweet!"

Ryan turned quickly to Ethan.  "Shhhhhh!"  

"Birdy," Ethan said again, more quietly.  "Tweet."

"Ryan?  What do you mean that it 'looks good'," I asked, slighlty confused.

Ryan snuck out from behind the tree and walked a little closer to the bird.  "It looks good to eat.  I want you to cook it."

"You want to catch a bird so I can cook it?" I asked incredulously.  "You don't even like chicken.  If I recall correctly, you won't eat chicken for twenty-hundred years.  What makes you think you'll like robin?"

"I don't know, I just want to eat it."

Great.  My son has gone from vegetarian animal lover to Ted Nugent in the span of ten minutes.  "I'm not going to cook a robin."

He looked at me for a second, smiled, said "ok", and then ran up to the front door.  I've been thinking about it a bit and I am still not sure if he was messing with me.  Part of me hopes that he was because that would mean that he is developing quite a sense of humor.  However a bigger part of me hopes that he wasn't because, quite frankly, I am not sure I can put up with that kind of crap for the rest of my life.  He's just going to get better at it.

I don't know where he gets this stuff.   

   

Ethan: A simple dictinoary

Ethan is learning new words almost daily, and for those of you who wish to communicate with our 19 month old, here is a handy sample dictionary that will make things a little easier.

"AAAH" - an exclamation meaning "Hey, look at me!", "Hey! I need food!", "Hey! get off my foot!"

"Bah!" - Typically shouted, which is why there is the exclamation point. Normally means "Ball", but can also mean "orange", "apple", or other round thing.

"Ball!" - Ball. Sometimes he actually pronounces the "L" sound.

"BEAR!" = Teddy Bear, with capitals and exclamation point. This word is only used with extreme excitement.

"Buzz" - Buzz lightyear.

"Car"- Anything with 4 or more wheels. He points out every car when we are on the highway. Can get really old really fast.

"Coo-coo" - Cookie.

"Coo!" - Cookie.

"Cook!" - Cookie.

"Cookie!" - Cookie.

"Cow" - Cow. However, can also mean pig, sheep, horse, or woman wearing a black and white fur coat. That was hilarious. We were in Wal-Mart and he pointed at this woman and said, quite loudly, "MOOO! Cow!"

"Daddy" - Me. This is one of my favorite words.

"Doggy" - pronounced "goggy". Means dog. Duh.

"Drink" - cup of water, juice, or milk. Doesn't matter, they are all interchangeble.

"Elmo" - The one word EVERY kid knows.

"Funt" - Elephant. Or Rhino. Or dinosaur. Or semi. Size is the key defining factor in this word. Elephantness doesn't seem to factor in.

"Fire" - Chicago Fire. Or Pacifier. He is a pacifier connoisseur, using different colors and sizes for different needs. Sometimes he carries two or three at a time, switching between them every few minutes.

"Gangyou" - Thank you. Adorable.

"Go!" - This is an invitation to run either by himself or with others.

"Hi" - Hi.

"Juice" - orange juice.

"Kitty" - Kitty. Or dog. Or bear. Whatever happens to be nearby and furry.

"Mine" - This is a recent addition, one that is quickly becoming his favorite.

"Mommy" - Mom. There are times he wants mom and times he wants dad...it is nice that he can let us know these things.

"No!" - He knows how to say this word, but doesn't seem to want to listen when we say it.

"Peas!" - Please. He only uses this when he really wants something. Normally it is "Peas! Cookie! Peas! Coo-coo!"

"Roar!" - Roar. He says this whenever he sees a dinosaur. Lots of fun while we were in the Evolving Planet exhibit at the Field Museum. Basically a solid hour of "Roar!"

"Sorry" - Sorry.

"Teef!" - Teeth. He loves playing with his toothbrush, and several times a day he will yell "Teef!" and run to the bathroom.


I am sure that tehrare others, but they are escaping me now. I'll update as he adds words.

Don't worry...you'll be safe.

Children are natures way of reminding you that there is a 6am, even on Sunday.

They are also a good way to remember what it was like to be a big brother or sister. Ryan and Ethan are now playing "together" a little more than they used to, throwing airplanes, pushing cars around, and kicking a soccer ball, but normally they just run from the kitchen to the living room and back again, screaming. They do have a little plastic tube that they like to play in, but this is normally reserved for special occasions, like when Ryan wants to torture his little brother. This tube comes in two forms - the rolled up, hula-hoop shaped form which takes up no space and sits in the corner of the room (my favorite form), and the 6 foot long, 2 foot wide form that seems to expand to take up the entirety of whatever room it happens to be located in.

The first time they played in it together, Ryan and Ethan had a lot of fun in the tube and there were only a few incidents requiring dad's attention. Ethan would climb in and Ryan would shake the tube until Ethan either laughed or cried. Either one seemed to be an acceptable outcome. After that though, Ethan became a little more wary of his big brother's motives and at times refused to get into the tube. Ryan had to coax him in using toys, bears, food, and whatever means he could so as to inflict the shaking torture. Eventually nothing worked, and Ryan resorted to flat out lying, using the phrase that big brothers/sisters have used for ages to entice their little siblings into situations which will most likely end in an injury: "Get in the tube, Ethan," he said, followed by a pause. Then, "Don't worry, you'll be safe."

Ethan, of course, bought this and got into the tube. Ryan then laughed in what I would describe as a maniacal way and proceeded to shake him around in the tube until he fell out, laughing/crying.

I think Ethan learned a valuable lesson that day. First, I think that he learned whenever Ryan uses the word "safe", he should immediately begin thinking about the variety of ways in which he may not be safe. His thought process will probably be "Wait...no one was talking safety a few minutes ago. Why is he mentioning my safety now? Typically I am safe even when no one mentions my safety. It is only when my safety is mentioned explicitly that Ryan tends to injure me. Perhaps the word "safe" doesn't mean what I think it means. Wait! What if none of the words I know mean what I think they mean? What if everyone has been lying to me about ALL the words I use? Huh. This is wierd. I think I am experiencing an existential crisis. Of course, I am only 19 months old and until a few seconds ago I had never used the word "existential", or "crisis", or, come to think of it, "and", so possibly dad is just putting words into my mouth for the sake of this story. Whew. Ok...I feel better."

Most likely his thought process would be something like "Ryan = brother. Brother = cool. Ryan = tube? Tube = safe? Ok."

So until he gets a little older and can have a existential crisis, Ethan will continue to get duped into doing stupid stuff because his brother told him to. I dread the first time I hear from an 9 year old Ethan, as he lays on the ground after jumping from our roof, "But Ryan said if I tied these sheets together, they would act like a parachute!"

Kitty!

Every Saturday I get the privilege of teaching an introductory biology class in which, for the most part, the students are conscientious and hard working. Due to their conscientious nature there are a few lab groups that are a little slow. This morning, for example, 4 of the six groups finished their lab activity 20 minutes ago, one is just now completing the project, and one group is basically just starting the second part. This second part requires that they leave little vials of yeast in a water bath and take measurements of the carbon dioxide production every 5 minutes for 30 minutes. It is now 11:45 am, all of the other lab groups are gone now, and it will take this one group about 10 minutes to complete the setup, 30 minutes to do the procedure, and then another 10 - 15 minutes to clean up. For those of you who are unable to do the math in your head, this means that I hate them.

The one good thing about the time that this group is taking is that it gives me a chance to post another story.

Last night Jen wasn't feeling well so I took the boys out to Petsmart to pick up some things. We needed some fish food because, as it turns out, they die if you don't feed them. We also needed to pick up a sucker fish to clean the tank because, as it turns out, lots of fish in a small tank means lots of poop and lots of algae. This poop and algae eventually make a film on the glass which makes enjoyment of the fish more challenging.

Ryan, Ethan and I hopped into the van and cruised to the store, listening to Metallica along the way. I am becoming a little more sure of the fact that they shouldn't be listening to this stuff, and Ryan let me know that I might be overreacting when he said, after the music ended, "I'm not going to do what Metallica says cuz it is really hard to sleep with one eye open. Plus, I haven't found any beasts under my bed." Then he paused a second. "But I don't really know what a beast is, so I could be wrong."

By this time we were in the parking lot and I was able to change the subject from Metallica to fish, so I took that opportunity. "Ready guys?"

"Ready!" said Ryan, climbing out of his seat.

"Car!" said Ethan pointing at the car next to us.

And we were off to the joys of Petsmart. We walked in and headed to the doggie day care section by running (Ryan)/walking (me)/running, walking, pausing every few seconds to look at something on a shelf, and general impeding the progress of the rest of us (Ethan). There were no dogs to be seen, but this simply meant that we had more time to go look at the cats. We then proceeded to the cat section in much the same manner as we had to the doggie day care. When we finally got there, Ryan noticed that all of the cats were asleep.

"Dad and Ethan, be quiet," Ryan whispered. "They are all asleep."

"OK," I whispered

"Kitty!" Ethan yelled, pointing at the cats. "Kitty! Kitty!"

"Let's go somewhere else so we don't wake them up," suggested Ryan.

"Kitty!" said Ethan, still pointing, clearly not in agreement.

I picked Ethan up to speed our progress across the store to the fish section. This section sports an entire wall which contains at least 50 tanks with different types of fish in each. When we got there I put Ethan down and Ryan quickly started looking for the sucker fish tank. Ethan stared in seeming awe at the wall of tanks. He ran up to one tank, pointed at it, and said "Fish!" He then looked to his left and appeared to notice that tank for the first time and pointed at that one.

"Fish!" he said.

Then, he looked up, his little face filled with joy. "Fish! Fish! Fish!" he said as he quickly moved from one tank to the next.

"Man. He really likes fish," said Ryan. "I like fish too, but he might like them more than me. We should get him his own tank." He paused slightly, as if thinking this next part over. "And a puppy. Mom said we could get a puppy this summer."

"Really?" I asked. I happen to know that Jen is more likely to allow Ryan to get a flamethrower and use it to practice igniting cars in the church parking lot, but I let it slide for now because Ethan then let out what sounded like maniacal laughter and ran down the length of the wall pointing at all the fish. I jogged after him and eventually grabbed him and we found someone to help us with our suckerfish purchase. As we moved on to the checkout line he noticed a dog down the aisle. Of course, you would imagine with his love of all animals he would yell out "Dog!", but alas, he did not. I was a little disappointed when he instead pointed at the dog and yelled "Kitty!"

"No, Ethan, that is a dog, not a kitty," I said.

"Yeah, Ethan," said Ryan, ever the helpful one. "Kitties are small and say 'meow' and dogs are bigger and say 'bark'. That's a dog. Mom said we could get one."

"Kitty!" said Ethan.

"Nope, that's a dog," I said. "Doggie."

"Kitty!" he said again, this time pointing at the dog. One of the things I have learned over time with these boys is that, aside from the incident with the Clementine orange earlier in the month when Ethan couldn't be convinced that it was not a ball, they are typically not this adamant about things when they are wrong. So I looked around the store for the kitty he might be seeing. As it turns out, there was a kitty, but it was on a sign way above the floor and it happened to be exactly above the dog that he seemed to be pointing at.

I mentioned this to Ryan and we both acknowledged that Ethan was right all along.

"We really need to pay more attention to that kid," said Ryan. "You can't always understand what he says, but he sure knows his kitties."

As soon as Ryan said this, Ethan pointed through the window at a dog getting its hair trimmed. "CAR!" he shouted.

We'll have to work on that one.