DADWAGON

Of course I should have gotten into trouble for this: I played Victor Lundberg’s scary paleo-Christian-warrior song in the living room yesterday, ostensibly so my wife could revel in its backwards glories. But the kids were also there, listening much more intently than either of their parents.

Dalia, of course, for whom the word “death” has the same arousing qualities that the word “elmo” does for normal kids, stopped at this lyric:

You ask me if God is dead
This is a question each individual must answer within himself

“Who is God and why is he dead?” she asked.

“Oof,” was my answer, I think. She was mistakenly thinking that God was a person. Yes, I know, my Christian friends–he was a person. And a God. And a ghost. But Dalia meant like, a neighbor. Someone who got sick and died.

The wife managed a half-laugh and said “We’ll talk about it later.”

Then, as happens from time to time when we try to blow off a big topic, we waited for a beat, sure that she would not be satisfied and that we would be forced to offer horribly inadequate and scarring explanations for why my grandmother is a minister of Christ and I am an near-atheist Jew. It would be the kind of mishandled conversation that turns innocent young children into poly-amorous Hare Krishnas later in life.

“Can we go to the park now?” she asked.

We exhaled. As we got her ready to go out, I offered a little thanks under my breath to my dark lord and master, Satan.

Part of my divorce requires the liquidation of all our marital assets, including the apartment I’ve lived in since 2004 (any takers?). I’m moving out early next week into a new apartment nearby, and JP’s mother is moving in while we put the place on the market (short answer: I’m a slob).

I’m curious to see how this all plays out for JP. On the one hand, he doesn’t really have to move (his mother currently lives next door to me; short answer: there is no short answer for that one), and what’s more, he gets a whole new room, new toys (I threw out most of the old ones), and a large backyard. Lucky him!

But there’s also a small concern about the disorientation of it all. His mother moved out about two years ago now. I don’t even know if he remembers her living in the apartment with me. Injecting her back into this environment won’t necessarily be bad–it’s just unknown.

My expectation is that he will be fine. He’s an adaptable and good-tempered child, and well, life is change, even for children. But it’s nice to have a sense today about what topics he will be angrily condemning me and his mother for twenty years hence. Time to prepare some counter-arguments!

Since I was mentioned in the Calgary Herald this week, and because Karen T. is one of our most beloved commenters and a confirmed Canadian, I am going to keep bringing you Canada’s news of the week.

Discover magazine reports that today that city officials in Vancouver unveiled a 2D “virtual speedbump” to get drivers to slow down. But the speedbump takes the form of a little girl:

In what sounds like a terrifying experience, the girl’s elongated form appears to rise from the ground as cars approach, reaching 3D realism at around 100 feet, and then returning to 2D distortion once cars pass that ideal viewing distance. Its designers created the image to give drivers who travel at the street’s recommended 18 miles per hour (30 km per hour) enough time to stop before hitting Pavement Patty–acknowledging the spectacle before they continue to safely roll over her.

The thought that keeps coming up here is: are drivers just going to get used to driving over little girls? Philadelphia drivers, faced with a similar illusion (this time of spikes in the road) reported becoming quickly inured to the effect once they traveled over the area once or twice. After squashing Pavement Patty a few times, you might start seeing all pedestrians as just another virtual anti-speeding campaign. You’ll need to test them for realness with your bumper.

However, I do like the idea of using graphics to warn about horrible things that can happen in your every day life. Maybe a virtual-reality mugger painted on the sidewalk in front of an ATM, or a woman with a baby and an accusatory look on her face in front of the bar where you’re about to get lit while the wife and kid stay home.