Dear Kid,

Stop the Presses!!! My Friend the Internet let me down. Fortunately, My Uncle the Brilliant picked up the slack.

“Stop the Presses” is a phrase from back in the Dark Ages (before the internet). Since late-breaking news couldn’t be shared on Twitter, the newspaper industry actually had to report the news (crazy, I know). When Something Really Important happened after the paper was put to bed (putting the paper to bed meant sending it to print), someone would yell Stop the Presses! (especially in cartoons) in order to change what was being printed. This didn’t happen often, because A) nothing that interesting tended to happen in the middle of the night and B) it was very expensive to stop and reset the presses—not to mention throwing away the already printed copies. So exciting news was generally reported the next day. Again, no internet so no one knew the difference.

You may recall that yesterday was Leap Day (Happy March 1^st btw) and that in celebration thereof I provided Interesting Facts About February 29^th.

Unfortunately, I left off An Important-ness. February 29, 1792, was the birthdate of Gioachino Antonio Rossini.

Didn’t send a birthday card? Not a problem; he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Don’t recognize the name? Not a problem; I’m here to help.

Rossini was a composer. Not only did he write the opera The Barber of Seville (see Looney Toons for the CliffNote version) and Cinderella, he wrote—wait for it—The William Tell Overture! (He wrote the whole thing, but the Overture is the best known part. It was very considerate of Rossini to write the Overture as it would be needed in the 20^th Century for the Lone Ranger.)

Still not clear? Listen to the clip I’ve so thoughtfully included.

Rossini’s music was wildly popular (then and now). His birthday parties probably weren’t well-known since he only had them every four years. Making him a candidate for piracy (extra points if you get the reference).

Hope you had a great February and have an even better March.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Every four years, something extraordinary happens. Something that makes us stop and take notice.

I speak, of course, of the Olympics.

Just kidding.

I’m talking about Leap Year.

Frankly, I think Leap Day ought to be treated like the extra day it is. It should be a day we can use any way we want. A free day.

It’s not. But it should be.

Because I’m that kind of mom, I turned to My Friend the Internet and collected some interesting fact about Leap Years (and it wasn’t easy because there aren’t that many interesting facts to find).

Even decades have three Leap Years and odd decades have two Leap Years.

During non-Leap Years, January 1^st and December 31^st  fall on the same day of the week; during Leap Years, they don’t. (Go ahead. Check. I’ll wait.)

On February 29, 1692, Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and Tituba (an Indian servant) were the first people to be accused of witchcraft in Salem, MA.

On February 29, 1908, Dutch scientists produced solid helium. BTW, did I tell you my brilliant new idea? I think we should figure out how make bubble wrap with the bubbles filled with helium. That way, packages will be lighter. Cool, huh?

On February 29, 1940, Hattie McDaniel became the first African-American woman to win an Oscar.

In 1964, Frank Rugani set the badminton shuttlecock distance record of 24.3m. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know why anyone cares. But it happened on Leap Day, so there you go.

On February 29, 1980, Gordie Howe became the first NHL player to score 800 career goals. And in 1988, Mark Greatbatch scored 107 v England on Test Cricket debut. That might be interesting if anyone had a clue what it means. But no one (including the players) understands Cricket, so I doubt anyone reading this will be able to explain it.

Happy Leap Day, Kiddo!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Puppy: Mom!
Me: Yes, baby?
Puppy: I don’t think you’re paying attention.
Me: Just so I’m clear, paying attention to who?
Puppy: Not a who, a what.
Me: And what is it I’m not paying attention to?
Puppy: The calendar.
Me: Why does the calendar need paying attention to? It’s usually you who needs attention.
Puppy: I’m a who, not a what.
Me: Absolutely. But let’s go back. What about the calendar?
Puppy: Don’t you know what today is?
Me: Monday?
Puppy: Pay. Attention!
Me: I thought I was. What are you talking about?
Puppy: It is Walking the Dog Day!
Me: You get walked every day.
Puppy: Yes, but there is a Day for it!
Me: Uh-huh.
Puppy: But that’s not all.
Me: It’s not? Silly me. What else?
Puppy: Tomorrow.
Me: Tuesday.
Puppy: Pay attention! Tomorrow is International Dog Biscuit Appreciation Day!
Me: You appreciate all food all the time.
Puppy: Yes, but there’s a Day for it.
Me: So you said.
Puppy: So….
Me: So?
Puppy: So we should practice.
Me: You lost me there. Practice what?
Puppy: Walking and eating treats!
Me: Ah.
Puppy: Do I have to explain everything?
Me: Apparently. Would you like to go for a walk?
Puppy: I thought you’d never ask. Will there be a treat at the end?
Me: Don’t push your luck, kiddo.
Puppy: I’m so excited!

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid,

STOP EVERYTHING!!

It’s Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (I did not make this up). Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day was invented sometime in the 1960s in Rochester, NY (because everyone thinks of starting their day off with ice cream when it’s minus 142 degrees outside).

There are all sorts of ice cream flavors including lots of breakfast flavors (I’m not aware of a green eggs and ham one, although there very well could be such a thing).

There are the fruit flavors (orange, banana, strawberry), the coffee flavors (coffee, mocha), and the breakfast pastry flavors (donut, cinnamon roll).

There is bacon ice cream, and French toast ice cream, and most ice cream is made with an egg base.

There are waffle cones and cookie cones and don’t even get me started about the variety of add-ins that are really should be considered breakfast food.

The big question (duh) is WHO CARES IF IT’S PRETENDING TO BE BREAKFAST FOOD? It’s a holiday. Ice cream is being celebrated. What more rationale could you possibly want?

Eat your breakfast.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Yesterday, Punxsutawney Phil was ceremoniously yanked out of a sound slumber to prognosticate the timing of spring.

Without coffee.

Seriously? How can anyone be expected to think things through without caffeine?

This year, the morning fogginess seems to have worked in our favor because P. Phil didn’t see his shadow. By definition, this means that spring will come early.

To be honest, I knew that before The Groundhog made his announcement because some of the iris (irises? irisi?) are poking their leaves up already. And they don’t aren’t supposed to do that until spring.

For the part of the eye, the usual medical plural is irides. For the flower both iris and irises are in common use.

So even though the first day of spring is officially not until March 20, the unofficial first day is now because WARM!

Happy (almost) spring!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The world has now officially come to the end of its technological rationality.

Many people think that happened a long time ago, but I can now officially (and by “officially” I mean I’m saying it) report that the technology world has gone on-beyond, way beyond, beyond beyond rationality.

It seems not everyone is a certified mixologist and – wait for it – there’s an app for that. At least there will be in June.

Not an app where you can look up whatever drink you want and get the recipe; no, that might make sense. And probably already exists.

Created by a new company called Bernooli (here’s the article), this new app talks to your liquor bottles. Think more silent R2D2 rather than C3PO, but there is communication.

The idea is that you get the free app and then buy the kits. You need smart spouts which live on your bottles and communicate with the app.

Want to make a drink? Tell the app, and the bottles will light up, in the correct order, and measure the amount you’re supposed to use as you pour.

Before you race out and spend your hard earned pennies, be aware that the smart spouts aren’t going to be available until December, that they aren’t cheap, and that they don’t come with a bartender to talk to.

L’Chaim.

Love, Mom