The Perfect Baby Handbook » Products

The perfect parent’s iPhone apps

dale — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 05:07:57 +0000

YAY: "Dad has an iPhone, is finally cool!"

Once, in an era known as pre-2007, you could raise children without an iPhone. This is no longer possible, implies Time magazine, with this list of hot iPhone apps for “new moms.”

The “BabyCam” app, which tops the list, solves a timeless problem:

Getting your baby to smile for the camera long enough to take a perfect picture can be a challenge. Using BabyCam’s sound button to play one of the app’s fifteen prerecorded noises—bells, drums, doorbells and songs including “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” helps.

For parents who prefer to snap an imperfect picture, there is also the “BabyPissOff” app. Use its sound buttons to play an arrangement of “Mary Had a Little Unsmiling Lamb” that’s heavy on blaring trumpets, shrill oboes, hisses, rattles, yelps, groans, keening, and a woman’s voice repeating, “Not in service. Please try your call again.”

The mystery of the disappearing birthday present

dale — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 03:30:26 +0000

Have you seen this t-shirt? Say, blowing down a street in Brooklyn? Or on the back of mischievous, Size-5 thief? Or somewhere in my friend Ariel’s house?

THE TEE: Gone, but not forgetten.

If so, please grab it and forward immediately to Perfect Baby Handbook Worldwide Headquarters on Montague Street so I can restore it to Ariel’s son Austen, the birthday boy for whom it was intended.

You see, sometime between 12 noon, Sunday, when I arrived at Austen’s madcap, high-concept birthday party (and handed it, giftwrapped in orange tissue paper, to his mom) and 3 p.m., it vanished. And 100-percent cotton, imported “Vintage Black Football Jerseys” by Appaman don’t just vanish, do they?

Especially when they’ve been known to “pair perfectly” with Appaman’s “Vintage Black Slalom Sweats”?

But, somehow, this one did, amidst the chaos of the treasure hunt, the dauntingly complex Jelly Bean taste test (organic vs. non-organic), the hysteria, the glee, and the serving of a cake that so masterfully depicted Nemo (of Finding Nemo fame) that a dozen toddlers stampeded towards it, much like art-snobs crowding around the latest Damien Hirst sculpture.

It truly is a mystery: Although Austen was witnessed at one point “feeling” the package and asking, with slight dismay, “Is it clothes?”, no one knows if he ever opened the gift. The card that accompanied the gift was found, halfway out of its envelope, on the floor.

My current suspects include:
• Birthday guest Dorian, a rival four-year-old who has never impressed me as honorable.
• The cat, Augustina Trembalina*
• Mysterious forces who feel strongly that well-off American children receive far too many birthday presents and wanted to make a point.

*Certain names have been changed

The hottest baby invention of 1945: The lab-rat crib!

dale — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 03:54:33 +0000

Cozy-looking, isn’t it? Conceived by Harvard behavioral psychologist, BF Skinner, for his second child, Deborah, this “crib” was born of the best intentions. Observing the heavy toll his wife’s parenting regimen took on her, Skinner set out to simplify it. Though not by pitching in himself…

HOME, SICK, HOME: Climate controlled!

He created this baby-sized room, known as the “Baby Tender,” in which the new infant could live—more or less continuously. Sound-proofed, self-cleaning, and climate-controlled (“78 degrees, with a relative humidity of 50 percent”), it reduced the family’s laundry load: “Why not dispense with clothing altogether,” Skinner posited, “except for the diaper and warm the space in which the baby lives?”

Too warm? Cool it down before little Deborah fusses or cries, vastly reducing Mrs. Skinner’s need to soothe her. (Scroll down for a touching image of mother, child, and box.)

The crisply designed “apparatus” got a bad rap right from the start. When Skinner enthusiastically but nerdily outlined its merits for the Ladies Home Journal in 1945, the article, titled “Baby in a Box,” raised eyebrows. Since BF’s other big invention was a case for testing animals (and rewarding them with food-pellets), people assumed the worst.

Rumors flourished that baby Deborah, “locked” in her box, failed to appreciate its comforts. According to the stories, she promptly became psychotic, growing up to sue her father and commit suicide.

Not so, declared a distinctly undead Deborah decades later, in a spirited defense of her father’s methods published in the (U.K.) Guardian.

Still, it’s easy to see how folks got the wrong idea. When Skinner published his Journal piece, Deborah had been in the “Baby Tender” box for 11 months, and, as he noted, not everyone sensed its brilliance:

A few critics have objected that they would not like to live in such a compartment—they feel that it would stifle them or give them claustrophobia. The baby obviously does not share in this opinion. The compartment is well-ventilated and more spacious than a Pullman berth, considering the size of the occupant.

Another early objection was that the baby would be socially starved and robbed of the affection and mother love, which she needs. This has simply not been true. The compartment does not ostracize the baby. The large window is no more of a social barrier than the bars of a crib.

Despite its roominess and obvious potential to increase his daughter’s social circle, the box, he admitted, was hardly a long-term solution:

How long do we intend to keep the baby in the compartment?….almost certainly until she is two years old, or perhaps three.

Even then, once Deborah had achieved the “wider range and variety of behavior” that comes from living without clothing—”our baby acquitted an amusing, almost apelike skill in the use of her feet”—the plan was to let her wander away from the prototype occasionally and really see the world:

After the first year, she will spend a fair part of each day in a playpen…

Or even “outdoors.” Rechristened the Aircrib when it was commercially produced in 1957, Skinner’s box mysteriously failed to catch on.

SKINNER'S CRIB IN ACTION: Note slide-out tray, pivoting display-case window, and little Deborah's evident bliss.

(Via DaddyTypes, via BoingBoing)

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Every kid needs a Swiss Army Knife—or does she?

dale — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 04:00:49 +0000

Delightfully stressful scenario: Some 9-year-old who’s already drowning in possessions invites your kid to his or her birthday. You need an appropriate gift, but what? My friend Julie thought she had it nailed: A Swiss Army Knife! Classic, cunning, status-y, and besides, didn’t Angelina Jolie buy Maddox one?

Big mistake: The birthday child’s mother reacted poorly. Namely by glaring, sputtering, and insisting her offspring return the scandalously dangerous gift. See if you can guess which of the following models provoked such a reaction:

1. MY FIRST VICTORINOX by Victorinox Swiss Army, $23. The classic entry level knife, created for kids. As one Amazon.com reviewer raved: “After [my grandson] used the blade to open boxes the presents came in this Christmas, he went outside and used the saw on some small trees and bushes in the yard. Unfortunately most were ornamental. We are still happy with the purchase though. It is sturdy and with modicum of care will last him, I think, into adulthood.”

2. CYBERTOOL 34 by Victorinox 125th Anniversary Collection, $120. A more advanced model, it features a bottle opener, a wire stripper, a “sewing eye,” and, somewhat inappropriately, a corkscrew.

3. GIANT KNIFE by Wenger, $1400. While this compact two-pounder does suggest that the Swiss are crazy obsessive freaks who are too busy carving, jabbing, and unscrewing things to, say, read a book—and, thus, poor role models for a 9-year-old—it does features both a laser pointer and a flashlight.

Michael Jackson doll—as seen in hands of his bereaved son!

dale — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 04:00:48 +0000

BENDABLE LIMBS: Blanket and doll

Trust it to a website called “Droolicious—Modern Design for Modern Parents” to find a product to drool over in the middle of Michael Jackson’s memorial.

The site’s post titled “What Was Blanket Holding?” dispenses with eulogistic ponderings and zeros in on the revelation that Jackson’s youngest son, Blanket, was gripping a “1995 Official Triumph International Michael Jackson doll” that “you can pick up” for between $260 to $1500, depending on whether you’d like it to sing.

No one at Droolicious seems to find it at all curious, notable, or (I dunno) heart-rending that this child is holding a plastic, miniature version of his plastic, full-sized dead father—something that’s never really been seen before. John F. Kennedy, Jr., for instance, didn’t have a JFK doll to help him mourn.

It’s as if Barbie’s daughter is attending Barbie’s Dream Funeral. A version of which, I just found out, was recorded for this 2007 YouTube video. Given Barbie’s parallels with MJ—both emaciated pop icons, born in the late 50s, given to makeovers and blank expressions—this clip disturbed me. I actually gasped at 00:28.

Goodbye, Barbie/Michael.

Related Posts:
• Michael Jackson bleached his son’s hair—both cruelly and cheesily
• Michael Jackson’s death as a “learning moment”
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Why Evian’s roller-skating babies terrify me

dale — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 03:47:04 +0000

Already a YouTube phenomenon, this new Evian commercial suggests that mineral water is so rejuvenating, it will transform you into a vaguely thuggish, roller-skating infant.

Evian clearly thinks this ad sets new standards of cuteness. These babies redefine precocity and outshine squirrels for agility as they one-up each other with funky roller moves—a reference to the late-70s jam skating scene in New York’s Central Park, set to the 1979 hit, “Rapper’s Delight.”

And it is freaky-cute, up to a point. Namely 00:26, when several of the babies leap in the air and cling to a wire fence like rabid dingoes who’ve watched West Side Story (or Thriller or The Lost Boys) a few too many times. And then it dawns on you: These babies have no parents. Why?! Have they perhaps killed their parents?

OVERSIGHT Responsible parenting in action

Who will stop these bundles of roller-skating joy if they turn rogue and swarm out of the park? If they begin leaping on cars and roller-skating their way up the Empire State Building? Will the U.S. Air Force be able to neutralize them in time? (Compare this illustration, right, from page 66 of my book, The Perfect Baby Handbook—although this infant is also dangerously mobile, at least his flustered dad is attempting to supervise him.)

On another level, the Evian commercial disturbs me because it suggests just how ruthlessly the new generation of aggressively educated, genius-ified babies may render the rest of us obsolete. Of course, it may not be too late.

A “rocking sheep” that is priced, in all seriousness, at $575

dale — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 04:01:04 +0000

Ordinary children have to make do with a rocking horse. Special children, whose parents like to shop online while drunk, get to own this $575 “Electric Pink Rocking Sheep” by Danish Crafts. Upholstered in lambskin, this creature is even more amazing than it first appears. Consider the web site’s description:

Most nursery sheep lull you to sleep; this one is strictly built for action. If you’re too old or sedate to hop on for a ride, it doubles as a cool TV rack or footstool.

These are challenging concepts. Let’s take them one-by-one:

1. Unlike most nursery sheep, this one is “strictly built for action.” Personally, I’m not seeing the rigor that “strictly” implies, but perhaps the prototypes were 400 percent fluffier; then someone at Danish Crafts said: “Hold on, we are being indulgent and unfocused! I personally feel that this rocking sheep, in its current incarnation, is built less “for action” and more for gratuitous fluffiness!” And someone else said, “By god, you’re right. You don’t see NASA sending inefficiently furry, pink rocket-ships into space, do you?” And then the boss barked: “Reduce fluffiness by 75 percent immediately!”

2. It is possible to be too old or sedate to ride the “Electric Pink Rocking Sheep.” I would generally agree. On the other hand: Sir Elton John?

3. It doubles as a footstool: A dead body also doubles as a footstool with the added advantages that it isn’t weirdly unsteady, super-silly, and swelteringly hot in July. In defense of the Rocking Sheep, it’s less likely to arouse suspicions.

4. The product can also double as a “cool TV rack”: Absolutely. Certainly—if everything your family owns apart from this Danish thing and a tiny TV has been destroyed by fire and you really want to watch “Grey’s Anatomy” on top of a pink sheep that wobbles.

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Michael Jackson bleached his kid’s hair…both cruelly and cheesily!

dale — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 03:55:07 +0000

Newish photos of Michael Jackson’s children have revealed that the eldest—Michael Joseph Kingly Son of Jackson His Highness, Jr.—was, at one point, a cheap bottle blonde. Presumably not by choice. Although fresher scandals about Prince’s parentage, biological and otherwise, are arriving fast and furious, the hair thing has really touched a nerve among parents. Especially those who need to be outraged often enough to sustain a lively blog.

THREE FACES OF JR: It don't matter if you're white or really, really white.

Not that it’s loving to bleach a child’s hair to the point where he looks like Siegfried, Roy, or one of the Village of the Damned zombies (who, incidentally, wore wigs with built-in domes so they appeared to have extra-large brains).

INSPIRATION? Blondes have more fun, except when they're possessed.

But what’s really behind the revulsion and concern these photos have provoked? If it’s just the evidence of bad parenting (bleaching a child’s hair can, after all, burn her tender skin, compel her to yodel, lead people to conclude you’ve just kidnapped her and must disguise her, or cause allergic reactions; just ask Sasha Baron Cohen), is it really so shocking that someone known as Wacko might exercise poor judgment?

I think it goes deeper. I think these photos make all too vivid a broader problem: our tendency to “package” or perfect our children, while denying their natural selves: the occasionally messy, lazy selves who just want to play mindlessly now and then with uneducational materials like dirt.

As a helpful reminder to avoid imposng perfection on your child, you might want to buy this prieceless 1988 sculpture, “Michael Jackson and Bubbles,” by high-kitsch (and apparently clairvoyant) artist, Jeff Koons. And then you know, just keep it out in the mud room.

SUN-IN: Portrait of the artist as a young, racially ambiguous figurine.

Video of the week: Stroller porn

dale — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 03:55:16 +0000

If you’ve never heard of the Swedish stroller company, Emmaljunga (founded 1925), don’t worry. You’re not missing out on much—except the occasional strangely eroticized advertisement. The video that currently greets visitors to the company’s website crosscuts between a hot mama pushing an Emmaljunga and a seemingly unrelated dad who has the hots for…hmmm, could it be her legs or her Emmaljunga? It’s all set to lame Eurojazz (or, as Americans call it, “porn music”). Observe the unfolding romance:

HELLO DOLLY! We meet the casually sexy Swedish mother as she strolls along the quay in a mini dress. Her hips sway, her hair tosses, her Emmaljunga rolls along like a charm.

CUT TO: Hot Swedish dad (flashing a bit of midriff) as he shares a special moment with his child. Although he's muscular, he's also balding to indicate that he's a committed father.

TENSION RISES: As the hot Swedish mother pushes her Emmaljunga so expertly, pertly, and hip-swingingly, all eyes turn to her.

INCLUDING THE HOT DAD'S EYES: Hidden behind "player" sunglasses—but then again, he's a dad, so he can't be too slimy, right?

TABLE FOR TWO? Hot Swedish mom takes a break from all that maternal catwalking; appears rather "available." Note the empty chair awaiting hot (adulterous?) Swedish dad.

A nursery-decor quiz: Bunny or terrifying monster?

dale — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 03:31:15 +0000

You’ve gotta love babygadget.net for its nursery-decor suggestions. Some of its finds, like this chest of drawers that costs more than a high-end fridge, are achingly charming. Others are—shall we say?—thought-provoking. One recent post, showcasing Danish bunny-themed wallpaper, provoked this pensée: At what size does a baby rabbit become disturbingly monstrous? Here are three designs from the featured company, Bemetapet & Fotosteter. You decide:

1. REALLY QUITE LARGE

This wallpaper design, known as "Miffy & Melanie," features two exuberant bunnies who have X's for mouths the way dead cartoon characters have X's for eyes. Apparently, Miffy and Melanie have had their larynxes removed, ensuring that they can't scream at your baby. Still, there may be other risks: Bunnies or terrifying monsters?

2. ENORMOUS

At an estimated 9-feet tall, this looming nibbler, "Baby Bunny Sleeping," is truly imposing. Granted, he is asleep. On the other hand, he's sleeping vertically so maybe he's a gigantic, somnabulant bunny who's about to stumble across the nursery, stomping your baby, while muttering unintelligible Danish phrases like, "Min luftpudebåd er fyldt med ål!"* It's your call: Bunny or terrifying monster?

3. “Oh my fucking god! Help! Insanely giant Scandinavian bunnies are ogling me and my baby! Call 911!”

This is the wallpaper that Babygadget.com specifically endorses. Though pointing out that it might cause nightmares, their touchingly deranged blogger writes: "This highly distinctive Funny Bunny wallpaper from Denmark appeals to me greatly—for a living room if not for a defenceless little baby's nursery."

*“My hovercraft is full of eels!”