Re-imagining your mom

Hey kids, ever wonder how your mom and dad can see what you're doing behind their backs? How did they know that you fed your lima beans to the dog when they weren't even looking?

Well, scientists have dug up a 100-million-year-old fly that might just have the answer. It looks just like a regular old fly except that it has a horn on top of its head WITH THREE EYEBALLS ON IT. Yes, three eyeballs.
















It probably used its rear-view eyes to watch out for predators, like this:

















Looks pretty handy, right? Well, I want to propose that some homo sapeins (those called "Mom" and "Dad") have actually evolved a similar structure in the backs of their heads, like this:

















Aha! So that's how we do it!

Caleb (age 5) has done a careful search of the back of my head and concluded that I have no unicorn horn with three eyeballs on it. It's a serious challenge to my claim. We welcome other evidence.

Hey Junior, let's talk about drugs, not science...

So let's say you're a parent of a teen. This teen faces the standard teen problems: acne, a fresh-baked sex drive, stoner friends who have discovered pot, and science homework.

Let's also say that by some miracle this teen gives you fifteen minutes to actually talk about one of these problems. Which one do you, the parent, raise? Acne's pretty easy to talk about. Sex, well, most wouldn't like to go there with kids (though I am an enthusiastic exception.) How about drugs? Most parents are pretty uncomfortable with that too.

How about that science homework? Do we want to raise that with Junior? A survey shows that parents are generally more comfortable talking with their teens about drugs than about science homework. Yup, that's right, science homework makes parents more squeamish than pot.

Oh, this makes me crazy. Please, everyone, have your teens and their science homework shuffle self-consciously over to my house. We'll take care of it.

The study hints that parents are uncomfortable with science homework because they don't understand the science themselves. But I wonder why parents don't feel comfortable saying, "Gee, Junior, I have no idea what the hell your physics teacher is talking about either. Let's work it out together."

Maybe we hate physics, or maybe we're just tired and need a stiff drink. Well, that's fair enough. But maybe the real reason is that we don't want to appear stupid, and fear that we couldn't figure the science homework out if we tried. This reason is a big big mistake, in my humble opinion.

I think the scientific method is a terrific parenting tool. Here's how it works: we're trying to figure out some phenomenon, call it X. Mom offers some explanation of X (hypothesis) Junior says, "But wait, that can't be right because of this or that experiment we did in class." (hypothesis testing) Mom says, "Oh, you're right." (hypothesis rejection and teen victory) Junior says, "Maybe it's this other explanation." (revised hypothesis) Mom says, "I just read this bit in your science textbook, and I think you're right." (literature review and second teen victory)

Here's what the teen takes away: Mom isn't afraid to be wrong. Mom isn't afraid to say "I don't know." Mom is open to hearing what other people -- even pimply teenagers -- have to say on the science. Now just replace "Mom" with "the scientific method" in those sentences. What a wonderful gift to our kids, and to parent-teen relations.

Of course, in my view we need to have these sciency chats long before the teen years. I love giving my five-year-old the upper hand in scientific discussions, and lately I have to say that he genuinely outsmarts me. Proud mama.

So how about you?

Where have we been?

You may be wondering: Where the heck is Kate? A new children's book on evolution was just released, the movie about Darwin's life is now showing in more cities and Darwin Day is coming up fast. No blog posts from Charlie's Playhouse? No Facebook updates, tweets or newsletters from the evolution lady?

The truth is, I'm at a standstill. My big brother Matt died of cancer on January 25th at age 46.

Why is this news for you, someone who likes Charlie's Playhouse but has never met Matt? Here's why.

Time was, I had a decent career researching women's reproductive health. Inexplicably, I also itched to leave that career to make evolution toys. Matt loved the idea and we talked about it often, tossing around game designs and ways to present evolutionary ideas to kids.

I tried to talk myself out of starting this business, but Matt's diagnosis was a kick in the pants. If Matt, or any of us, could be diagnosed with terminal cancer tomorrow, why not take the road that brings the most joy? Why not do the thing that will make Matt and me laugh together for the last few years of his life? Matt tended to choose the oddball path in his life, and he inspired me to take mine. So if it weren't for Matt, Charlie's Playhouse wouldn't exist.

Thanks for that, Moose. I'm so damn lucky to have been your sister.

OK, now that's off my chest and I'll return to chipper evolution-related updates, I promise.