The Finer Points of Parenting

Experience in a given field can readily be ascertained by a discussion of the finer points of said field. This is the surest way to weed out the BS artists, and I say this as a rather accomplished BS artist myself.

So I find myself talking about a finer point of parenting - at least up to the 9 month or so stage, because I find such finer points humorous and worthy of recording. A poopy diaper, I have learned, can usually be folded in such a way as to minimize the stink, by rolling the diaper and then folding the tabs one under the other, much like one would wrap a samosa. When cleaning out our diaper genie, I noticed it was filled with these "diaper samosas" as Rabiah calls them, and it was quite full, as it hadn't been emptied in a few weeks (mainly because I'm the only one who changes Issa's diapers in that room) and was rather surprised that the diaper genie emitted only a musky odor - but not that assaulting stench that can literally knock you over.

I thought it was so cool I should share it.

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Today Carolina won the ACC title. And I remember the excitement over a win - especially such an important one - over a hometown rival (even though it wasn't Duke which is always so satisfying) and remembering the bonfires on Franklin Street and the police blockades and car horns and yes, drunk frat boys throwing toilet paper by the yard onto the bonfire. Then I realize that was 12 years ago...then I got to thinking about that one Internet story that used to circulate about some professor who, at the beginning of every year would pass out a list of anecdotes about that year's freshman class to humorously point out the growing generational gap. I first read this anonymous professor's anecdotes when I was still in college - basically the same age as the kids he poked fun at. You know, that for this year's freshman class, TV's have always been in color, and they have no memory of the Ford administration, etc. etc.

Some years later - I guess more recently - I read the updated version and man, does it work to make you feel old. This year's freshman class would not know how to operate a rotary dial phone. There's always been caller id. No one has just "one number" anymore (think about forms you saw your parents fill out when you were young: they'd add for name, address and phone number. Now, such a form would be rather meaningless, because there's the landline, the fax number, at least two cell phone numbers, a Skype ID, four email accounts, blah blah blah) They don't remember the old school cable boxes where you had to dial the channel you wanted. There's always been the Internet as far as they can remember. (Seriously, can you even remember how you used to live without the Internet? How cool is it to just google any question you have, when I remember having to go to the library and check out a filmstrip with my mother to learn how they put toothpaste into the tube.

My dad once told me about the first time he saw a neighbor use a radio dial, and was intrigued - if not amazed - at the manual dexterity required to tune into a station. I wonder what type of story I'll tell Issa when he gets older.