Ollie: “You’re wearing an Aaron Rodgers shirt.”
Me: “Yeah.”
Ollie: “Maybe Aaron Rodgers is wearing *your* shirt.”
That seems likely.
Evie: “It must be hard being a daddy.”
Me: “It is, but why do you say so?”
Evie: “Well, you have to think of all those jokes to teach your kids.”
That is truly the hardest part.
Evie: “1993?? That is SO OLD! That’s like…FOREVER!”
Ollie: “A knight should never cry.”
Me: “No?”
Ollie: “No, because they have metal armor. So if they cry, it might get rusty.”
On the morning of my birthday, Evie presented me with a birthday card. Fairly straightforward, right? But this was a card just from her, not from the rest of the family, and from a store, not homemade. Surely, if Sara had bought the card, she would have signed her own name, and Ollie too.
I looked at Sara but she had never seen the card before either. She was as puzzled as I was. I was thinking maybe a grandparent had taken her to the store or something…?
No, of course not. It turns out that she had actually found it in a book she had checked out from the library a month or two before. She secretly asked the librarian if she could keep it for her daddy’s birthday, since there were no names or identifying marks on it.
So, once again, she comes up with a surprise. It’s not SO amazing, I guess, and probably wouldn’t have been a big deal if it hadn’t fallen on the heels of so many other resourceful surprises.
This girl continues to mystify me with her ability to follow through on things and her general cleverness / resourcefulness. If I had to pick a few skills that would help you in life, those would definitely be on the list.
What a ridiculous, delicious, science fictional time we live in.
In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past few years, you may not have heard of “Unmanned Aerial Vehicles“, also known as “UAVs” or “drones”. Basically they are little flying planes or helicopters, piloted remotely (or not at all). Some of them, such as the Predator drone, are capable of carrying out Hellfire missile strikes for the Air Force, while others, such as the Global Hawk, fly completely autonomously.
Like anything these days, technology continues to get cheaper, smarter, and smaller. You can pick up a self-stabilizing R/C helicopter at your local Toys R Us for under $20. For a little more money, you can get your very own camera-equipped spy copter.
Naturally, if I can get a spy-drone delivered to my door for less than $90, you can bet that all manner of nosy neighbors, Orwellian secret government agencies, paparazzi-style news magazines, creepy old men, and your favorite social networks will all shortly be monitoring your every coming and going. In fact, it would be foolish to think they’re not doing it right now.
Sounds awesome! But what’s in it for me?
Delivery of your hearts desire, anywhere in the world, within 30 minutes, that’s what.
Let’s start with the “Burrito Bomber“, the “world’s first airborne Mexican food delivery system”.
It works like this:
You can see a video of the Burrito Bomber in action here.
Burritos not really your thing? How about the TacoCopter, already in operation in the San Francisco Bay area. ALREADY IN OPERATION people.
Amazon has already announced the “Prime Air” program, wherein a drone would air-drop you a package in 30 minutes or less.
Is there any doubt this is going to happen? Of course not, it’s too convenient. Too awesome. Too inevitable.
The FAA is currently scrambling to lay down regulations for commercial drone usage, with a congressionally mandated deadline of September, 2015. But regardless of the deadline, this is coming, sooner or later. As a species, we have shown time and time again, that we will give up freedom for the illusion of safety, privacy for convenience, and personal and intimate details for a really good search engine.
I will happily give up the last shreds of my privacy, the last hope of a peaceful, empty sky, the last quiet moment of oneness of nature, for a still-warm, queso covered burrito, air-dropped to my location in the middle of a remote forest.
Any product, in my hand, 30 minutes? Make it so, congress.
Yesterday, Sara and the kids arrived from their long walk home from school.
“Ollie, where’s your backpack?” asked Sara.
Ollie looked around confused. “I don’t know.”
“You were wearing it when we were at school, but you’re not wearing it now.”
Ollie was just as puzzled as anybody. He’d had it, and now it was gone. Poof. Quite frankly, that’s not the sort of thing he usually has to worry about.
Now, to Ollie’s credit, he felt pretty terrible about the whole thing (and the backpack was recovered this morning…he’d taken it off by Evie’s class). But wouldn’t it be great to be a kid again? Where you could just blithely walk about 30 minutes home and never for a second wonder, “Where’s my backpack?” or “Am I carrying everything I’m supposed to have?” or “What am I going to make for dinner? How are we going to get the kids to their activities on Saturday? Are we saving enough for retirement? What about college? Are my kids safe at school? Are any of us safe? Is the world going to hell? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?
There is a weight to responsibility. Even when you’re not thinking about it, it’s there. The weight of kids, and money, and your job, and your relationship with your spouse, home ownership, friends…I could go on. As an adult, it’s such a common feeling, that you almost can’t notice it until it’s gone.
For example, lets say I’m at home, but an aunt or uncle or grandparent or whoever is playing with the kids. I’m not actively taking charge of the kids, but the weight of responsibility is still with me. I’m still thinking, “Are they hungry? Should I make a snack? When’s the last time they went to the bathroom? Is the laundry clean? Do I need to get milk from the grocery store? Does Ollie need a new winter coat? Are the kids getting enough protein? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?
I’m not even aware of all these thoughts, buzzing around in my head like gnats. But when the kids are gone for the weekend? Hallelujah, the weight is lifted! Suddenly I don’t have to worry about making sure they eat, or get somewhere on time, or have clean clothes, or a million other things. It’s like a muscle relaxes that you didn’t even know was tensed.
It’s easy to say, “Hey, you should like, not do that.” But it’s not quite as easy to do in real life. Being in charge, having to make decisions, it’s not something that you’re actively *doing*, so stopping doesn’t really make sense. (And forget going on vacation, that’s MORE stressful, if anything.)
It sure would feel magnificent to be able to set down those burdens like a backpack, even for a moment.
Life: “Were the kids housed, clothed, nourished, and loved today? Did your work project meet the deadline? Did you pick up toilet paper and fix the drain and make the car payment?”
Me, confused: “Uh…I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I had all that under control, but, uh…I don’t seem to have it anymore. To be perfectly honest, I thought someone else was taking care of that.”
::Squints at reader, reading this right now::
“Hey, does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?”
By Jove, it actually works!
This seems like a good idea, but to be honest, it works a bit better on paper than in real life. Vastly less efficient than using my hands.
Several chin cramps later, I was told I mostly looked like I was having a stroke.
(Inspiration via Emily)
Shane Halbach 