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My daughter should get a research credit for my portion of Baseline’s McDonald’s stories. She was paid in Happy Meals for her work.

After two weeks of downtime, I’m back in the saddle. Work, a brief unwired vacation, and more work have kept me away from the blogging grind, perhaps for the best; I’ve been living life rather than recording it. I’ve also been blissfully ignorant of world events for much of that time, only catching glimpses of a USA Today here, a Coastal Times there. Like Paul Simon sang, “I gather all the news I need on the weather report.”

So much has happened that I’ve let pass without comment. The blogosphere is full of comment on these things; I have nothing to add to the parallel monologues of the past few weeks. I read the Wall Street Journal for the first time in 15 days this morning, and I think I feel a tiny bit of what Ken Bowersox will feel when he returns from the International Space Station today–a sudden return to a world that is familiar, yet changed.

Zo? spent her first night sleeping in a full-size twin bed. Well…most of the night. She woke up at 2 AM, and I had to go in and get her back to sleep, which meant that I ended up falling asleep for a while in her bed too. Then she woke up at 6, and climbed into momma and dada’s bed for another two hours of sleep (making self-extraction from bed this morning even more difficult)…

Today, Jonah turned 9. We had a treasure hunt for 9 smaller gifts (his main gift, an electronic keyboard for the lessons he wants, is in the pipeline) This spinning light was a hit, along with a number of other toys and gadgets that we might have been more inclined to say “no” to back when we were sane (like handcuffs, a “dissapearing” knife toy, and a safe with an alarm bell).

The time had come; all preparations were made, Kevin’s science project (a model rocket-powered helicopter) was given a final application of reinforcing duct tape in hopes that it would help prevent the total disintegration of the helicopter’s balsa-wood propellers and body. A (hard-boiled) egg passenger was strapped into a sling beneath the rotors. We took the unlikely aircraft down to the local park for its maiden flight, with quite a crowd of neighbors gathered to watch.

We hooked up the rockets to some 20-guage wire with alligator clips. I stripped the other ends of the wires, and conneted them to the lantern battery we had brought and….
No ignition. Too much resistance in the wires, not enough amperage.

That meant there was only one solution: for me to shorten the wires. That meant getting up close and personal with four model rocket engines.

“This is either going to be on America’s Funniest Home Videos or Jack-Ass,” I said.

“Want me to turn off the tape?” Kevin asked.

“No, we’ll need a record for the insurance company.”

And here’s what happened.

Only one rocket fired, resulting in unbalanced thrust and a spectacular mechanical explosion as momentum of the rocket tore the helicopter apart. Pieces were thrown 10 feet away. No parents (or, for that matter, eggs–amazingly enough) were harmed in the process.