Beta told us she wanted to go to Jesolo, Italy with a girlfriend and her family this week so we let her. Ah, looks a little hazy at the moment. She’s 13, I’m worried, when she left I told her I’d be pissed if she fell into the hands of child p*rnographers, she gave me the “dad, not in front of everyone” look. Alpha calls her every day, yesterday Beta sounded bored. “I miss you guys,” she said.

She’s 13, and misses us! She prefers travel with us! She said so, explicitly. In Jesolo, they do the same thing every day, she said. Eat breakfast, go to the beach, eat lunch, go out on pedal boats, eat dinner at the same pizzeria, watch a movie, go for a stroll thru town.

I was corresponding with my cousin recently, and she called parenting a “crap shoot” and I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I don’t know about you, or your parents, but I haven’t the slightest fucking idea what I’m doing. In theory I try to emulate the good parts of what my own parents did, and avoid the bad parts, but they were flying by the seat of their pants themselves; in reality it’s a daily scramble to get the kids fed, off to school, then in bed again at night. If we’re lucky we do something interesting in between.

I’ve given up on experts and books. This summer I looked at two books on education and school styles. One supporting the “conservative” 3-Rs, back-to-the-basics approach, one the “liberal” non-graded blah blah approach, both with reams of statistics and anecdotal evidence backing them up. Who’s to say? So I just go by instinct, get rid of the TV, get the kids reading, pay attention to their school work.

It’s just instinct. When Beta brings home a good report card, though, I don’t know if it’s because of anything Alpha or I did, or just because Beta is smart. I never know if our parenting is optimal, or if more discipline would be good, or less; if more involvement would be better, or worse.

I think you can have too much involvement, see. I suspect that kids need a little time to themselves, even a little neglect. Too much peering over their shoulders, asking, “everything okay in there kids?” and driving them to a hundred organized after school activities… I think you can overdo that too.

But what do I know? Jack shit. So when Beta, as a teenager no less, tells us she prefers traveling with us, that’s decent feedback.

She comes home on Saturday; we can start fighting again then.

Ciao, Aaron.

[Location: suburban '60s boudoir]
First slug [in negligee, blowing smoke rings towards ceiling]: No, I’m not bored.
Second slug [wearing nothing but slime]: It’s just, you seem so distant.
First slug: Nooooo, anytime you get more of those protein pellets, feel free to come over.
Second slug: You’re getting hooked.
First slug: Hooked on you, hooked on pellets, what’s the difference?

[Location: rural tortoise habitat]
Human: What the hell, you’re covered with slug slime! And all your protein pellets are gone!
Tortoise [Moves leg]: —
Human: It’s those slugs! They’re getting huge! [Flicks slug away]
Tortoise [Sticks head out so human can scratch her under chin]: —
Human: Time for the salt!

[Suburban '60s boudoir]
First slug [checks watch]: What’s taking him with those pellets? [blows smoke ring]

[End of Part I]

“We went to use the restroom at Kmart and to buy a Scrunchi (hair band), and when we came back to our car, cops were coming in (the parking lot) and they tied our hands,” said Brandi Ratliff, 18, who said she was a straight-A student at Waller High School and never had any problems with the law.

[via Pat]

The wild girl of Champagne had probably learned to speak before her abandonment, for she is a rare example of a wild child learning to talk coherently – although she could remember little of her feral existence, which she thought had lasted two years. When coaxed from a tree in Songi near Chalons in the French district of Champagne in 1731, she was aged about 10, barefoot, and dressed in rags and skins with a gourd leaf on her head. In a pouch she carried a cudgel and a knife inscribed with indecipherable characters. She shrieked and squeaked, and was so dirty (or possibly painted) that she was mistaken for a black child. Her diet consisted of birds, frogs and fish, leaves, branches and roots. Given a rabbit, she immediately skinned and devoured it.

I think I dated her in college. Many thanks to Joerizilla for the link.

When you wax over tattoos, is it ever like when you go over the Sunday funnies with Silly Putty?