That's Fit That's Fit

Baby Einstein DVDs "hinder language development" By Jonathon Morgan on videos Filed under: Healthy Kids In order to help their infants learns, many parents turn to DVDs and videos, such as the popular Baby Einstein series. However, a recent study finds that not only are these videos ineffective in helping children learn, they might actually be harmful to their language development. And the more they watch, the worse it gets. Researchers found that for every hour a baby watched of these "educational" DVDs and videos, they understand 6 to 8 fewer words than those infants who weren't exposed to Baby Einstein, or other similar material. While the study doesn't prove conclusively that the videos are harmful, it does show that they're not helping your baby learn. Experts say this is a reminder that a child's parents are far more engaging, stimulating and helpful teachers than any attention-grabbing DVD. I have to agree. We tried a few of the Baby Einstein videos when my daughter was younger, and -- while she's turned out just fine -- it always made me uncomfortable that she'd stare off into the TV like a zombie whenever the DVDs were playing. We eventually stopped letting her watch them, figuring there was no way that could actually be good for her. Read | Permalink | Email this | Comments Comments

That's Fit That's Fit

Diet foods 'increase obesity' in children By Jonathon Morgan on overweight Filed under: Food and Nutrition, Diet and Weight Loss, Healthy Kids Especially given all the news about the growing obesity epidemic amongst children, it seems there's even more reason to be feeding your kids diet food and drinks. But apparently not, say researchers, who, in a recent study, discovered that these so-called "diet" options may actually be part of the problem. The reason, say scientists, is that, because the foods are artificially low in calories, they hinder children's ability to associate taste with calorie content. Subsequently, they'll reach adulthood without understanding which foods are most-likely to cause weight gain, and be at greater risk for obesity later in life. Continue reading Diet foods 'increase obesity' in children Read | Permalink | Email this | Comments Comments

PARENTING: Crib Climbing

"Those big stuffed animals, pillows, and heavy comforters were dangerous as suffocation hazards when your baby was small. Now that she’s bigger, they’re tickets to freedom."

By Armin Brott
http://www.mrdad.com/


Dear Mr. Dad: My year-old child has begun to climb out of the crib at night. How do I keep her safe?

Answer: Start by thinking about her environment in larger and larger circles, from the crib to the door. First, the crib. There get rid of all those bumpers (those oh-so-cute fabric pads that used to protect your baby from banging her head against the inside of the crib). Bumpers make great stepping stones for climbers. Also, take all those big stuffed animals, pillows, and heavy comforters out of the crib. These items were dangerous as suffocation hazards when your baby was small. Now that she’s bigger, they’re tickets to freedom.

Start by explaining to your child that this is her very own, safe, special bed, and that she can sleep there all night, just like Mommy and Daddy do in their bed. Then, if you haven’t done it already, adjust the crib’s mattress so it’s at the setting closest to the floor. If the lower mattress and lack of climbing materials still don't prevent escape, you have a few options.

You might consider buying one of the commercially available safety nets that fit over the top of the crib like a large dome. These nets always seem a little like you’re imprisoning your child, but they’re a temporary solution (they’re also excellent for keeping roaming pets out of the crib).

If safety nets aren’t your style, consider installing a gate across her doorway or using a doorknob safety cover that your child won’t be able to open. If you go this route, though, be absolutely sure that your child’s room is completely childproofed.

As your child approaches two, she’ll begin associating climbing and jumping with the possibility of falling, and may become more cautious on her own. You can help the process along by reminding her, "Remember how you fell down and bumped your head and cried?"

Whatever you do, don’t just give up and put pillows around the crib, as some people do. Because pillows can shift around and expose the bare floor, this is not a good long-term solution.

The next step is a "big girl bed," which can be a mattress on the floor or a twin bed. The twin bed should be pushed against the wall, with a bed rail on the outside. This all applies until it is time for potty learning, when the world gets even bigger!

Armin Brott has written or co-written six critically acclaimed books on fatherhood. See www.mrdad.com and listen to his podcast at http://mrdad.com/daddycast/.

Photo from stock.xchng.

Am I Blue?

By Alexander C. Kafka

Our son Julian was blue, and he couldn’t have been happier about it. Almost 3, he was passionate about color—not colors, mind you, but color. One color. Blue.

My wife and I were prepared for the boys-prefer-blue ethos. And it’s not that Julian was particularly macho. He got jealous of his twin sister Adrienne’s barrettes and would have loved a couple of his own, and he could push doll babies in strollers around his preschool classroom with the best of them. But he adored blue, with the intensity of religious fanaticism, political credo, and aesthetic manifesto all rolled up in one. The degree of his commitment to the hue was reflected in his pronunciation—a sensual, insatiable, delightful “buh-LUE.”

He didn’t just like to wear blue, he gravitated to everything blue. He spotted my Cool Blue Raspberry Gatorade one day and started asking regularly for “blue juice.” Because we wanted him to drink more milk than juice, I always told him that there was no blue juice open. Then when I asked him later if I could get him anything at the grocery store, he said he wanted “blue juice that opens.” Reforming the system from within.

He turned on the TV and clicked through the real channels to the blue default screen on a channel we didn’t get. Listening blissfully to the static and staring into the deep blue, he purred, “This is my favorite movie.”

When he finger-painted, he did so in blue. When he drew with crayons, he did so in blue. When he used sidewalk chalk, it was the blue one. The family was strolling one day, my wife Lauren and I were chatting, Adrienne was singing “A, B, C’s” and Julian stared upward, transfixed, at the clear sky. “Mommy, daddy, pahdon me!” he bellowed (we had taught them to say “pardon me” if they interrupted, but hadn’t conveyed that it was best done quietly). “Yes, Julian, what is it, honey?” I said. “The sky is buh-LUE?” he wished, in wonderment, to confirm. “Yes, it is.” He stared up, longingly, having discovered his place of origin.

Blue had such power for Julian that it was not just a color. It was an honorific. After his hernia surgery at Children’s, his first request in the recovery unit was for blue crackers, so hungry was he. He might have meant his favorite brand of saltines, which came in a blue box. Then again, he might really have meant blue crackers. With Julian, you never knew.

He referred to his two constant companions as his “blue people.” A stickler might note that the blue people were neither blue—they were black and white—nor were they people—they were a cow and a dog. What was clear was that Julian regarded them as his dearest companions and most vulnerable charges. If we tucked him in for naptime or night-night and failed to cover his blue people properly with the blanket, he protested, with the somber indignation of a paternalistic Latin American dictator, “I am cozy, but my people are not cozy.”

That which was good was blue. That which he wanted most was blue. It must have been, for why else would he want it? Thus a cozy fleece jacket was his “little blue jacket”; never mind that it was gray.

I know what you’re thinking: The boy simply didn’t know his colors. But he did, as long as they were in a book divorced of all daily associations. But in this three-dimensional world, blue was a status, a recommendation, an authority.

His yummy Flintstones chewables were blue—or else. “Is it blue, mommy?” he’d ask, holding a vitamin. “Actually, it’s orange.” “It IS blue!” he’d protest, verging on a tantrum. This was a ritual repeated daily.

Finally we arrived at the concept of “honorary blue” to describe that which should be blue and yet, due to some anomaly in the structure of the universe, does not appear so. Thus, we could say of favored vitamins, clothes, balls, skies, cars, and even some relatives, that they were, for example, “green, but honorary blue,” a determination Julian accepted with grudging equanimity, like a white-collar criminal learning of a fairly favorable settlement offer.

In such improvisatory ways, we weathered his stormy mood indigo.