There are few things I appreciate more than a good song parody. And this one is brilliant.

I never got all that excited about the prom. As a card-carrying introvert (although I didn’t appreciate what that really meant at the time) the idea of going to a dance with lots of other high school students and wearing uncomfortable clothes really didn’t appeal to me.

However, when I was in 11th grade, my girlfriend was a senior, and she wanted to go to her senior prom. So, I used a tux shirt that had belonged to an uncle on my mom’s side of the family and the closest thing to a suit that I owned, paid for a corsage, and off we went.

It was, if not a disaster, at least memorably awful. At that point I was a vehement tee-totaler, so the conventional after-prom parties didn’t offer much attraction. We ended up parked somewhere half-heartedly making out until I took her home. The experience did little to change my mind about proms.

Last week I took the boy to get his haircut, and we ended up having to kill some time and wait for an opening. As we waited, I surveyed the other clients in the salon.

There were three young ladies in the chairs, each getting an outrageous hairstyle. This wasn’t the typical post-haircut style, either. These were Hairstyles.

After a few moments, it became clear that these three ladies were going to their prom that evening. At that point, it became very sweet. They were so excited. They sat in their chairs and watched their hair getting curled into cascades of ringlets, or twisted and turned and piled on top of their heads, and they positively glowed. And the stylists were obviously enjoying themselves, and pulling out all the stops as it were. In fact at one point the woman at the front desk suggested they get out “the glitter”, and giggles erupted all around. Spritz bottles of metallic glitter appeared as if by magic. “Do you want silver or gold?” The wide-eyed debutante had no idea. “What color is your dress, hon?” said another. The decision was made to go with the gold.

One of their moms had taken them to the salon, and she watched the whole process with amusement, and affection, and not a little pride. And it was an amazing thing to watch. These girls were wearing sweatshirts, tanktops and jeans, but from the neck up, they were beautiful. One of the girls, who had turned her cascade of black hair into a mass of banana curls, had brought her boyfriend along. As if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, he kept touching her curls and watching them bounce softly. She laughed and said: “I can tell what you’re going to be doing all night.”

What a transformation: These three girls from the suburbs had become Disney princesses, had become young women, and they were suddenly so beautiful it put a lump in your throat. They were so beautiful, they themselves couldn’t quite believe it, and kept sneaking astonished glances in the mirror at the strangely sophisticated woman that looked back at them. They thanked the stylists standing around them profusely, the stylists beamed, and the proud mother hustled them out, giving me a smile and a look as if to acknowledge the little miracle we’d just observed.

I’ve still got a few years before the Girl has to think about the prom. And for all I know, she’ll scoff at the whole idea of prom, and never go. But if it turns out that she does attend, well, I’m looking forward to it a lot more now than I used to.

I got a call the other afternoon from one of the Girl’s teachers. ANY midday call from one of her teachers is a source of immediate panic, and my mind started racing. Unlike most parents, however, I don’t start envisioning what horrible things could have happened to my daughter. No, I start envisioning what horrible things my daughter might have done to someone else’s child.

This time, however, there were no injuries. My daughter’s teacher sounded somewhat hesitant to explain the problem.

“Well, the Girl brought a roll of duct tape to school.”

OK, she’s been a duct tape freak her entire life, so this isn’t too surprising. Did she tape some kid to the ceiling?

“She spent the day duct taping all of her notebooks and binders.”

OK, again, not too unusual. She likes to cover things in duct tape.

“It was very distracting for the rest of the class.”

Aha! She was wrapping her things in duct tape during class. Her teacher had apparently asked her to stop at least five times, and finally took the duct tape away from her. This lead to a discussion of how our daughter tended to sketch and draw in class instead of, oh, doing the classwork.

I bring this up not because it’s unusual, but because it is so utterly normal. It touches on most of our ongoing issues — a) taking inappropriate things to school, b) getting her classwork done, and c) doing what she’s told to do. Or perhaps more accurately, NOT doing what she is told NOT to do.

She is still taking Vyvanse, and it’s been very helpful, but it doesn’t provide the kind of control she needs to get her homework done and avoid issues at school. We tried going to the next higher dosage, and she started getting migraines of unexpected ferocity, so that’s out. Since it’s not doing the whole job at the lower dosage, we’re shifting to another medication.

Atomexetine, sold under the brand name “Strattera”, is a newly-approved medication for treating ADHD in children. Unlike Ritalin, Adderol and even Vyvanse, Strattera is not a stimulant. Instead, it is a norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor. Preliminary studies seem to indicate that it is effective in increasing attention and decreasing impulsivity.

As with any drug, there are potential side effects: loss of appetite (not necessarily a bad thing), increased fatigue and drowsiness, and a very small chance of liver damage and increased thoughts of suicide. Just want to keep my hand in for Parent of the Year.

It can take 3-4 weeks for Strattera to become fully effective, so we’ll see what happens. One thing I know for sure, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to differentiate impulsivity and ADHD symptoms from the “normal” behavior of a 12-year-old girl.

We’ve been seeing more and more attitude from our little angel, including excessive sarcasm, sulking, and the kind of generally adolescent behavior that makes them so much fun to have around the house.

Last night the little darling got her door taken off it’s hinges. Again. Sigh. Six more years.

Do you remember Pirate Baby’s Cabana Battle Street Fight 2006? Well if you liked that, you’ll love Kings of Power 4 Billion %, also by Paul Robertson.

Of course if you hated Pirate Baby, you’ll hate this even more.

This video is NOT for the squeamish. Click to view.

Courtesy of No Fat Clips!

Nine years ago the Wife and I spent the wee hours between midnight and 8:00 am in a hospital room having very different experiences. She was in back labor, and hoping to avoid the necessity of a second Cesarean delivery. I was holding onto hands and feet as necessary, supporting as necessary, and waiting for it to be over.

The midwives in attendance told us they were very impressed with how well we worked together through labor. Well, the Wife and I have always worked well together under pressure. It’s when we aren’t facing an emergency that things get rocky. But I digress.

My son came into the world differently from his older sister in almost every way. She was born in the evening, he was born in the morning. She was born at the beginning of winter, he was born in the spring. She was pulled from my wife through an incision, while he arrived the more ‘old-fashioned’ way.

And they have continued to be very different as they grow. The Girl has always been aggressive with her intelligence, asking probing questions, and gravitating to adults more than to her peers. Her brother has always been content to remain in the background, watching. Watching and noticing. He’s frighteningly observant, and puts clues together amazingly quickly. I can’t begin to tell you how many times he’s been watching me play a video game, and he spots a clue (or the hidden passage, or the enemy’s weak spot) before I do.

He likes to know how things work, and he delights in assembling complicated machines and models. When you add in the fact that he has a better intuitive grasp of mathematics than I do, it becomes pretty obvious that if he isn’t headed for engineering, it will only be because he finds some career that fascinates him even more.

Today is his birthday. And since the girls are gone this weekend, I can celebrate his birthday my own way; my favorite way. Not with a big party, and not with expensive presents. Instead, for one day, all the questions that usually get answered “NO” get answered “YES”. Can you have a root beer float? YES. Can you rent some video games? YES. You want pepperoni pizza for dinner? YOU BET. You want a haircut?

Yes, he wanted a haircut. His hair has gotten quite long and shaggy lately, which he hates. So I got him into the hairdresser and we buzzed it all off. The little bugger looks like he’s about to start boot camp. I doubt if his mother will recognize him. He loves it. And I love him.

I think he’s had a pretty good day. Happy Birthday, big guy.

I have NOT been enthused about the new Speed Racer movie. For one thing, it represents yet another beloved childhood memory that’s been painted up like a prostitute and abused by the Hollywood system. For another, the clips I’ve seen of the movie look like some sort of LSD-induced Grand Mal seizure sponsored by Pantone.

But THIS clip, this one actually looks like it’s from a movie, not a music video, and miracle of miracles it also manages to resonate with some of the magic of the original series. You remember the series, don’t you? The steering wheel, with all those lovely buttons? The sharp *TWANG* of the jacks launching the Mach 5 into the air? A car with freaking buzzsaws that pop out of the front end? It was the coolest cartoon ever.

Maybe I’ll watch the movie after all.