Pill training

In case you don't already know, we are going to Tanzania in May. Wow! Dad is taking the four of us, and Granty Jes and Aunt Deena are coming too. The kids are at a seriously awesome age for an ambitious family vacation. It's going to be amazing.

We have already been to the travel clinic to get up to date on all our shots and receive extensive medical advice and prescriptions. One of the vaccines is oral (typhoid) and has to be taken once every other day, four doses, well in advance of the trip. That's just me and Dale and Jordan; Aaron is too young for the oral version and got a shot instead. I started us on this regimen the other day and was surprised at how nervous Jordan was. And I realized... he's never taken a pill before! Kids' meds are all liquids! Whoops. Jordan got panicky, and could not believe he actually had to swallow a capsule, and didn't care what it was for, and in this case there are strict instructions not to chew it or let it melt in your mouth, so once it got wet there was a clock ticking, and he could not do it at all, and we wound up basically pilling him like a cat. No fun for anyone. I had two days until the next pill, so it was time to make a plan. 

The internet knows all. Various sources assure me that lots of kids have a hard time with pills, sometimes until they are teenagers. Kids with behavioral disorders like ADHD are especially prone to pill-hating and also likely to be getting a lot of pills, which is a lousy situation that I'm glad we're not in. Techniques like coating the pill with honey, hiding it in applesauce, etc., don't sound promising to me; those kinds of things never even worked with our cats. Instead, we are engaged in a course of Candy Training. Who doesn't like Candy Training?! I obtained a set of hard candies of increasing size. The tiny little decorator sprinkles are designed for instant success - they are laughably tiny (even the kids laugh), but actually offer some practice working a little hard thing around in your mouth and down your throat. When you've swallowed five of those in a row with no problem at all, you get to move to the next level (try not to say, "bigger one"): the little colored balls. Aaron is on that level now. Jordan has mastered that level and in fact can now swallow a tic-tac no problem. This is a big thrill for him, and yesterday he swallowed his typhoid pill with confidence.

In Africa, we will need to take a daily malaria pill, and man, those things are BIG. Aaron's prescription is for half a one a day and Jordan three-quarters, so apparently it's all right to cut them into pieces. But still. From tic tacs we will work up to cinnamon candies, and finally to Skittles, which I figure ought to be sufficient for anyone.

Experiential Passover

We had a full Passover seder at a friend's house on Sunday night, and part of a seder at home last night in the tent, just us and Dad. Tonight we had friends over (Bekah and Bob and their daughters plus Betsy and Diego, preschool friends) for a highly experiential Passover celebration. We read the story of Exodus aloud at the table, and when we got to the part where the israelites were abused as slaves we whipped each other with scallions! So funny! Couldn't get enough! Then when we got to Moses being hidden in the reeds we made Baby Moses Salad, which I have to say is becoming an indispensable tradition. Laughed our heads off. Ate the baby. For dinner we had latkes and smoked salmon and other things. Then we moved outside to read aloud about the parting of the Sea of Reeds, and two grownups waved a pair of blue sheets for everyone to run through to pretend we were escaping the Egyptians. I tried it too -- it was surprisingly thrilling. We ended the festivities with strawberries and homemade Caramel Matzoh Crunch. Dayeinu!

Jury duty, kid edition

The boys were very interested in hearing all about my jury duty experience. Because we have lawyers in the family, they are already familiar with the basics of our justice system: the lawyers help each person tell their side of the story and the judge decides what is fair. We hadn't talked about juries before, so I said in some cases, when there is something very important that needs to be decided, they want to make sure it's not just one person doing the deciding, so they make a whole team to decide, and that is the jury. They wanted to know what my case was about. The first time they asked this, I was still in the selection process, so I explained that I am not allowed to discuss the case with anyone while I am still involved. They wanted to know why not. I said partly for the privacy of the people who have the dispute, and partly to make sure I am only judging the case on the evidence, and am not influenced by other people. They accepted this.

Yesterday, I was free to talk about whatever I wanted because I had been released from service. The boys were still very curious what the dispute had been about, so I went ahead and told them. Fellow parents, are you prepared to explain sexual assault to your kids on short notice? We all should have that vocabulary, so I just took a deep breath and said, "Some people say that this guy got some children drunk in his house, and that he touched them in ways they did not want to be touched, and scared them and hurt them." Jordan said, "Touched them how?" Gah. But this is actually important to be able to talk about, so I took another breath and said you know how there are some parts of your body that should only be touched by you, and maybe your mom and dad if they are helping you take a bath and maybe your doctor if he is checking that everything is working right? The boys were clear on this and indicated the body parts in question. I said, "Some people say that this guy touched the kids in those places in a mean way, so that he hurt them and scared them." The boys seemed like they took this seriously but were not overwhelmed. I remembered to add, "That's what someone says. The question is, did he really do it, or did he not do it. And you can see how that is a very important question to decide." Jordan said, "How are they going to decide it?" I asked what he thought would be some good ways, and we had a little discussion about witnesses and testimony and evidence. I just left it at that, without any further specifics about this case; I don't know very much, anyway, and it seemed like this was plenty.

Jordan got a little concerned about the seriousness of the decisionmaking. He said maybe he would not want to be a lawyer, because what if someone was wrongly convicted, or wrongly set free, and it was your fault? I said that would be a good thing to discuss with his grandfather. I also said maybe next time we're in San Francisco Grandpa could show them around the courthouse there, and they loved that idea.

Meanwhile, one of our breaks was in an empty courtroom, and the bailiff (and other jurors) said it was fine if I took pictures to show my kids. You can see the witness stand, the jury box, the area for the clerk and the bailiff, and so on. I even got a fellow juror to take a picture of me in the judge's seat.

Jury duty

I had jury duty for the last two days. It was extremely interesting! This was the first time I've been called in Seattle, and the one time I was called in Maryland I was excused for hardship reasons because I had an infant at the time, so I didn't make it very far in to the selection process. This time, I made it all the way through the voir dire (where the attorneys and the judge ask questions about jurors' backgrounds and potential biases). I was not selected, and that fulfilled my two days of jury service, so I'm back to normal now. This is a relief, and definitely a relief to Dale, who had to cover more than usual during my commitment. But I would have been glad to serve, too. It looked like an interesting trial, and not too long.

The format for the voir dire was new to me, and I think relatively new in King County, judging by how the attorneys talked about it. They used to grill each juror individually, starting with juror #1, accepting or rejecting one person at a time until they had a complete jury. This was monumentally time-consuming, and pretty boring while you sat there waiting for your turn. Now, the attorneys ask questions of the entire room at once: we hold up big cards with our juror numbers on them to answer, and attorneys follow up with a few people for each question, delving more deeply with a few, or inviting #22 to respond to what #13 just said, or asking who agrees with juror #9. It felt almost like a community discussion of the issues pertinent to the trial. The judge and attorneys expressed repeatedly how much they prefer this system. It's more interactive, they learn more, it's more interesting for everyone, and they the quality of  the information they get is higher. Some jurors are excused during this discussion if it becomes evident to the court that they would not be able judge the case based on the evidence, perhaps because they know someone involved or have an overwhelming personal stake in the issues of the case. At the end of the discussion, the attorneys pass a clipboard back and forth, accepting and rejecting jurors one at a time. I think there is still a priority based on numerical order, because I noticed them focusing their questions on jurors #1-30, and only jurors with numbers in that range were eventually selected. I was juror #45, so although I contributed to the whole-group discussion (and I distinguished myself on one particular point), I think I was never in the running.

The charges in this case were charges that most people have strong feelings about: the defendant was accused of getting a group of kids drunk in his house and sexually assaulting them (molestation and/or rape). There were four different kids, ages 12-13 at the time. The alleged incident was four years ago and the kids were only coming out with the accusations now. The voir dire questions from the prosecution got pretty serious pretty fast, along these lines:

Have you ever had a close friend or family member report to you that they were sexually assaulted?
When did the person report the assault to you - soon after the incident, or much later?
Why do you think some people might not report such an incident immediately?
Why do you think a child, especially, might not report being sexually molested?
What difference do you think it makes if a boy is molested, versus a girl?
What evidence would you expect the state to present in cases of alleged sexual molestation?
What would constitute evidence of sexual molestation, if there were no forensic evidence (because it was a long time ago) and no witnesses?
How would you know when to trust the testimony of a child reporting abuse?

These are not easy questions! And I thought it was an excellent discussion. People were overall very sensible and thoughtful with their answers, sometimes personal, sometimes more philosophical. I thought the prosecuting attorney did a great job of listening to people's answers and selecting out the issues that he knew would be important for this trial. I was reminded of very good physics teaching, in which the teacher draws out students' (halfway decent!) ideas about a physics phenomenon and guides the class to build on the features that she knows will get them somewhere. By the end of it, I felt that I understood where the prosecution's case was headed, and what the issues would be, and how I personally would try to take them on.

The defense attorney appeared to me to be less skilled at voir dire. She was trying to get rid of people who were so freaked out by or personally involved in the charges that they couldn't judge the case fairly. But since many people are strongly biased against accused sex offenders, she had to figure out something more like who had firmly prejudged the case, and that's something people wouldn't admit to. Her questions sometimes didn't make sense to me, or felt weirdly leading, so that I felt she was trying to get me somewhere I didn't really want to go or didn't understand. It seemed to me that even when she made a good point, the jurors resisted her; they argued with her over her characterization of their answer, or told her they thought her question was inappropriate. At the end of it, I didn't feel that I had gotten a preview of what the defense's argument was going to be, the way I did with the prosecution. Now, you never know with lawyers; maybe her tone was strategic. Or maybe she just had the tough side of the argument (who wants to side with an accused sex offender?), or was having trouble pulling us out of the victim-sympathizing mood that the prosecution had successfully pulled us into (which, let it be noted, presumes that there is a victim). But I didn't think she was as good.

All that said, the defense's voir dire raised one issue that blew me away. At one point, she asked the following question:

Right now, when you have heard the charges but seen no evidence, who do you consider to be a little bit ahead - the prosecution, or the defense? Or is it an even race right now?

A large number of jurors put up their cards to say that the prosecution was ahead. Another large number put up cards to say that so far, the two sides were even. When she asked for people who think the defense is ahead so far, only two cards went up: me, and one other juror. EXCUSE ME? I was stunned. To me, this is a question with a right answer, a legal answer, an answer that is one of the foundations of our criminal justice system, for pete's sake. The attorney called on me to explain my reasoning, and I said, "I believe it is my job as a juror to presume the defendant is innocent until the state proves beyond a reasonable doubt that he is guilty. Right now, he is innocent. The defense always starts out ahead." The one other card-raiser said his reasons were the same. This caused a little shiver of side talk among the jurors -- oh, right! Innocent until proven guilty! The judge had (of COURSE!) explained this when she read the charges; she had gone on quite some time about it, in what I thought was a very helpful and informative way, including the different evidentiary standards in civil and criminal cases (preponderance of evidence vs. beyond a reasonable doubt). So it's not like people just hadn't watched enough CSI to know how the justice system works (as if that would help). They just really were not taking that principle into account.

When the judge followed up with some people to see whether hearing my answer affected their thinking at all, some of them said, "Well, that's what I meant by the race being even so far. In criminal cases, 'even' means the defense is ahead." That didn't seem like a very good answer to me, but whatever. Other people, however, explained in quite a committed way that no, they did not currently presume the defendant to be innocent, because ... drum roll please ... if he's gotten all the way to this courtroom, he must have done something. Whoever brought him here (law enforcement, or whatever other agency) must have had enough evidence to merit his being forced to show up in this room at this time, needing a lawyer and all. So he's probably guilty. "The prosecution is ahead," they said, firmly.

My dad (a longtime criminal defense attorney) was not at all surprised by this; I guess it's pretty common. He wasn't nearly as appalled as I was, either. He says at that point people are under oath to tell the truth, not under oath to be fair or legally correct, so there is no right answer, only a true answer about your own convictions. Now that I'm a little calmer, I think the whole experience is a good reminder for me of how radical, counterintuitive, and profoundly important the principle of innocent-until-proven-guilty really is.

Making sounds

When I picked Jordan up from school today, he snuck up behind me and honked, using a fun little reed instrument he made out of a drinking straw. It was for a science lesson. You cut the end of the straw into a point, flatten it by biting it a little, and blow into it with a little buzz in your blow, the way you do for a kazoo but less vocally. It makes a great sound! Jordan loved it. He had two different straws of slightly different diameter, and by fitting one into the other, he had made a thing like a slide whistle or trombone, where you slide the pitch by making the instrument physically longer and shorter. He played it all the way home. Between tunes, he chatted me up about sound and vibrations.

Jordan: Mommy I learned that sound is waves. It's the vibration.
Me: Can you explain to me how this thing works?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate and that makes the sound.
Me: Huh. I have not thought about this before and you are really making me think. Does the air make the straw vibrate, or does the straw make the air vibrate?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate. Because you have to blow. And you have to blow in a certain way to make the straw go buzz, and that is the sound.
Me: Wow. I think that is totally right. You even have to blow in a certain way, a kind of a buzzy blow, or it won't work. So it's sort of like, you make the air go buzz, and the air makes the straw go buzz?
Jordan: That's what I think. I'm just guessing about this right now.
Me: That's okay, that's called figuring it out. We use what we know to figure out new things. I'm figuring it out too. What I don't understand yet is how the sound gets to my ears. Because I think the sound has to get to my ears for me to hear it.
Jordan: I think the sound is the waves, and the sound cuts through the air to get to your ear faster. The sound is the waves, and the air is like the sand on the beach. Have you seen how the waves at the beach can kind of cut through the sand? Like that.
Me: Far out. That's different than how I think of it. I think the sound is the air that is vibrating.
Jordan: I never thought of it that way. That's a new idea to me.

Since we were on our way to Jordan's choir practice, I asked:

Me: Do you think this has anything to do with singing?
Jordan: No. I think it is completely different.
Me: How do you think singing works?
Jordan: I think the air goes over that little thing that hangs down in the back of your mouth and vibrates it and that makes the sound.
Me: That's called the uvula. I have no idea what that thing is for. But the way you are describing it, it sounds a lot like what you said happens with the straw.
Jordan: Uvula?!?! [He thought the sound of the word was hilarious and practiced saying it over and over.]
Me: Yeah. I don't know what it's for. I think that singing sounds come from a thing that is farther down your throat called the larynx.
Jordan: Is that the voice box?
Me: Right, that.
Jordan: I think that has little strings in it and those vibrate to make the sound. And there has to be the air to make it vibrate because you breathe when you sing.

As we arrived at choir, I said maybe his choir director would know about how sound is made for singing, and he decided he wanted to talk about it at the break and maybe show how his instrument works.

I have since learned that the uvula does play a bit of a role in the articulation of some sounds, but mostly just glottal stops, not notes. I wonder Jordan got his idea about the uvula from cartoon images of people yelling. The "strings" in the larynx may have been a reference to the "vocal cords," which apparently are not so much cords as folds in the tissue. Which makes the larynx more like a reed instrument, right?

I'm going away! Now follow me!

A child-development book I like says, "The eight-year-old child is an exuberant, outgoing bundle of energy; he meets every challenge head-on, willing to try almost anything. Sometimes parents are amazed at the enthusiasm and excitement with which their child greets the world." I certainly am. Jordan is highly competent and he knows it. He can tidy up a room, learn a piano piece, charm a toddler, walk himself to school, make friends with a dog and its owner, and save up for a big purchase. He can navigate a shopping cart through a crowded grocery store with excellent etiquette. He can suggest strategies for me to deal with a challenge at work (and they're good ideas, too). He runs out ahead of us on the street so that he can lead the way.

At the same time, he is very connected to all of us, especially Aaron; so any new thing he does, he wants Aaron to do it too, or at least be right there to appreciate how well he does it. This leads to a funny dynamic in which Jordan first declares that he will now be doing this new activity By Himself, not the old thing he used to do with Aaron; but very shortly he is inviting Aaron to do it with him. I think this is both because he wants Aaron to admire what he's doing, and also because he genuinely loves Aaron's company.

For example, a few weeks ago I decided that Jordan should try out taking a shower. He and Aaron had always taken baths together, and I was usually there for the washing, but Jordan is getting to be such a big kid that I suddenly looked at him and thought, "Time for this kid to be washing himself," and introduced the shower concept. He loved it. He was thrilled. He declared he was taking showers from now on, maybe every day. He consistently opted out of baths with Aaron. I briefly mourned the passing of the little-kid bathtime scene (which was getting a little crowded, anyway). And then tonight, Jordan extolled the virtues of the shower to Aaron: "You should try it! You can try it right now with me! It feels so great!" And Aaron tried it, and loved it, and they bonded over how much they both enjoy showers now.

New skills

Jordan has a new skill: He can cook himself a scrambled egg with cheese!

He can do the whole process independently: remember what ingredients he needs, locate the proper utensils, crack and beat the egg, grate the cheese, pour the oil, etc. The first time he did it, I guided him in each step, and didn't touch anything. Now I just keep one eye on things while I go about my own business (but I still stay in the kitchen). The trickiest part is cracking the egg: he tends to squeeze it, so that it kind of explodes into the bowl and on his hands. I'm trying to teach him how to do the thing we experienced egg-crackers do without thinking, which is to kind of open the egg along the crack. (Did you know you did that?) I assume experience will be the best teacher of this particular detail. The other exciting part was turning on the stove, which he had never done before. He is quite safety-conscious, listened carefully to my little lecture about natural gas, and has not yet made an unsafe mistake. There is so much to learn - how much oil to use, why you should turn the pan handles in. Jordan finds it all thrilling.

Aaron, meanwhile, is becoming a real reader. He can read "early reader" type books independently, and has a colorful and engaged reading voice.

Here he is in action:

He is a great writer, too. Here is a card he made for his kindergarten teacher, who has been sick for months and will not be back for some time. It says, "I hope you get better soon. To Ms. Mrphy. Aaron." 

For me the most touching thing is how sick she looks, there in her bed, thinking about her classroom.