The Littlest Pets for the DS

Both my kids are old hands at navigating the world of virtual pets. Each boy has owned three or four such pets, and each has done the necessary work in order to sustain them: play games, earn points, and subsequently redeem the points for pet food. Parenthood is tough, I tell ya.

Though eventually the boys lose interest, leaving their pets to languish (because no matter how hungry they get, virtual pets never do die), I still find virtual pet games preferable to many of the other kinds of computer and video games out there. That's because the player's goal is a prosocial one: to care for an inherently weak and vulnerable creature.

So when the Parent Bloggers Network offered up the Electronic Arts game* Littlest Pet Shop: Jungle for review, I readily accepted. I was fairly certain that Eleven would reject it as being too girly (after all, the Littlest Pet Shop products have always been marketed to girls, and he knows it) but that Six would have no such qualms.

And he didn't. He only once commented that there were more girl pets than boy pets from which to choose, but he did so with a shrug of the shoulders. He willingly accessorized his pets, though he gravitated towards the unisex accessories like sunglasses and hats. But mostly, he enjoyed playing the sixteen mini-games included in Littlest Pet Shop: Jungle.

The game opens in the Pet Shop, where the player can collect and name 20 pets in all (6 of these are unique to the Jungle version of the game). In playing mini-games, the gamer can earn Kibble Coins to unlock pets, their accessories, and toys (e.g., slides, balls, etc.). The mini-games have multiple levels (beginner to advanced) for greater playing power (read: longevity). Six's favorite mini-games were Nut Fest, in which the player must prevent nuts from falling off of trees and onto his or her pets, and Sky Ride Collection, in which the player moves a tram up and down the side of a mountain.

Other play "environments" in the game include the jungle, a winter scene, and a garden.

Six is greatly enjoying Littlest Pet Shop: Jungle. He feels -- I do as well -- that he is at the exact target age for this game, which he finds neither too easy nor too difficult. (The game does require the player to possess basic reading skills, so buyer beware.)

We are so happy to find a DS game that is precisely at Six's level. (Six usually plays DS games that his older brother likes, so more often than not he ends up stuck at a level, unable to move forward in the game, which, of course, is incredibly frustrating for him.) Thumbs up to Littlest Pet Shop: Jungle! Six loves it!

*The version we reviewed is for the Nintendo DS.

Hot Wheels, Reinvented

For years now, Hot Wheels and I have maintained an uneasy alliance. My kids are drawn to Hot Wheels sets like moths to a flame. But I prefer toys to have staying power. There are no fewer than three Hot Wheels sets languishing in our basement right now. What happened? It seemed as if each set was something of a one-trick pony. Once the boys had set it up and successfully completed its featured stunt a few times, they lost interest.

So when the Parent Bloggers Network asked if I might be interested in reviewing two new Hot Wheels products, I balked. That is, until I read the fine print in the product descriptions and discovered that Hot Wheels has changed things up. Sets are no longer stand-alone. The track (now called "trick track") from one set can be combined with the track from another set.

Brilliant.

Eleven and Six received two of the newest Hot Wheels sets: the Triple Stunt Starter Set (US $21.99), and the Power Loop Stunt Zone (US $32.99). Eleven put the sets together with no help from me, but had Six tried to do the same, I think I would have been called in to assist. The Triple Stunt Starter Set includes three stunts that kids can arrange however they please: a flame launch, a 360-degree loop, and a massive crane claw. (The boys were AWED by the size of the crane claw.) The starter set comes with a vehicle. This is important, because though we own piles of Hot Wheels cars, most of them do not work with stunt sets.

The highlight of the Power Loop set is the power loop itself: two vertical loops crossed to create a globe effect, and a motorized (battery-operated) speed booster. The set also includes a drop -- a portion of track that can be attached to a table or chair.


My kids have been busy combining the Starter and Power Loop sets in various ways. With six stunts between them, there are loads of different layout possibilities, and Six and Eleven seem eager to explore them all:


Just in time for Christmas, Hot Wheels has reinvented itself. Selling sets that are compatible with one another is a genius move on the company's part. Not only does it dramatically increase the longevity of Hot Wheels products, but it allows kids to have more say than ever before in the planning and implementation of track layouts.

Hot Wheels, I forgive you your past transgressions, and I really do think that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Autism's False Prophets

In Autism's False Prophets: Bad Science, Risky Medicine, and the Search for a Cure, Paul Offit recounts a chapter in the history of research into autism, a chapter sorry on so many levels it's staggering. Mostly it's sorry because it has wasted precious time, time researchers might have used to investigate promising avenues into the causes and treatments of this baffling developmental disorder.

The crux of the issue is that autistic symptoms are often first observed in children in their second year of life -- which is precisely the time that they receive many of their immunizations against childhood diseases. This is a coincidence, pure and simple. But frantic parents, desperate to understand why their toddlers are withdrawing from the socioemotional arena, cast about for anything that might bear on the often alarmingly sudden appearance of autistic behaviors in their kids. (Twenty percent of children with autism develop typically and then regress during the second year of life -- with little or no warning.)

In response to parents' concerns, the relation between vaccines -- both the MMR vaccine, which combines three vaccines in one, and also a preservative called thimerosal present in vaccines until recently -- and the onset of autism has been extensively examined. According to Offit,

[t]he science is largely complete. Ten epidemiological studies have shown MMR vaccine doesn't cause autism; six have shown thimerosal doesn't cause autism; three have shown thimerosal doesn't cause subtle neurological problems; a growing body of evidence now points to the genes that are linked to autism; and despite the removal of thimerosal from vaccines in 2001, the number of children with autism continues to rise. [p. 247]

And yet there are still many, many parents of children with autism who believe -- strongly, passionately -- that either the MMR vaccine or thimerosal is responsible for the disorder.

Why? How can such parents maintain this assertion in the face of so many rigorously conducted scientific studies?

That is the question at the heart of Offit's book. In large part it has to do with the physicians, lawyers, and celebrities who jumped on the bandwagon when vaccines were first proposed as a culprit in the development of autism. Sadly, everyone wanted a piece of the pie. Some physicians practicing bad medicine saw the chance to become famous. And lawyers, of course, saw the chance to make lots and lots of money off of parents who so fervently wanted to believe that there might finally be a reason they could cite for their children's autistic behaviors.

Most upsetting in all of this is that some doctors practicing alternative medicine seem thrilled by the opportunity to propose treatments for autism that assume vaccines to be etiological. Many of these treatments are preposterous. They're anti-scientific. Worse, some are dangerous. An example is chelation therapy, defined as the administration of chemicals designed to bind to mercury and to eliminate it from the body [p. 83]. In 2005, this therapy killed an autistic child. Yet it remains a popular therapy, despite the fact that

[a]utistic children don't have excess mercury in their bodies; cells damaged by heavy metals aren't healed by chelation; and no well-performed study has ever shown chelation treats autism. [p. 120]

Autism's False Prophets is a must-read, though it is also a terribly sad read. I cannot imagine that anyone could walk away from this compelling book believing that vaccines have anything to do with autism. Oh, wait. Actually, I can. Because there are still legions of parents, lawyers, doctors, actors, and politicians who believe that all of the science performed to contradict the vaccines-cause-autism hypothesis is irrelevant in the face of what they KNOW. What they BELIEVE.

Offit is concerned -- as am I -- that lately our culture is one in which belief, or faith, in something is perceived to be as valuable as, and perhaps more valuable than, scientific evidence. There is no other explanation for the fact that the vaccines-cause-autism hypothesis continues to hold sway, continues to take time that could be better spent investigating plausible causes of and treatments for autism.

It's autistic children who have lost the most because of the needlessly protracted vaccine-autism controversy. And that is shameful.

Tell everyone you know about this book.

I wrote this review for the Parent Bloggers Network.

Little Face Packs a Big Punch

When I first heard about Sophie Hannah's Little Face, I started itching to get my hands on it. Every now and then, a book comes along that I MUST HAVE. NOW. I don't care whether it's in paperback or hardcover, so strong is my desire to read it. These kinds of books are usually the ones that I end up reading in a day (and night), ignoring every nonessential distraction until I've finished. It's lucky that such books are few and far between, because my kids are more or less motherless during the time it takes for me to read them. (I suppose it's also lucky for them that I'm a fast reader.)

Why was Little Face so compelling to me? Because it's a psychological thriller. I am helpless in the face of this genre. But there's more: the protagonist is a new mother, and she's experiencing the jarring shift in identity that accompanies the birth of one's first child. Parenting and psychology... Is this not what I consider nearly daily at Slouching Past 40? (If you're not nodding your head right about now, then you must not read my blog.) And if that weren't enough, Sophie Hannah, the book's author, is a published poet, who recently received first prize in the Daphne Du Maurier Festival Short Story Competition. I do like me some good writing. Even the most cleverly plotted thriller is bound to lose me if its author cannot write with grace and ease.

Just when I'd decided that I couldn't go another day without purchasing Little Face, a publicist at Penguin Books contacted me to ask whether I might be interested in reviewing the book. What did I have to say to that? Hell, yeah. Oh, and smart publicist.

Because I did read Little Face within a 24-hour period. And it didn't disappoint.

Alice Fancourt, the novel's protagonist, has a brand-new baby named Florence. She and her husband David are living at their mother-in-law's estate. (Problem #1, if you ask me.) Alice is persuaded to leave her newborn daughter for an hour or so in order to take a tour of her MIL's health club, which she's considering joining. When she returns to the mansion, her husband is asleep. She tiptoes into her daughter's nursery to find a baby.

But not her baby.

If not hers, then whose? And why?

How David's and Alice's relationship falls apart under the stress of the apparent kidnapping is fascinating and terrifying both, as is how Alice reacts to and cares for this other child as the police investigate Florence's abduction. Alice's task -- and it's a difficult one indeed -- is to persuade her husband, MIL, and the police that the baby currently in residence at the Fancourt estate is not in fact her own baby. The infant looks quite like Florence, and only Alice feels certain that the baby is not her own. How does a mother convey the awesome power of the maternal instinct to others who don't feel it, who are beginning to call her mental health into question?

In time Alice realizes that she has at least one ally: Detective Simon Waterhouse is inclined to believe her. The fact that David's first wife was murdered strikes Waterhouse as more than just a bizarre and macabre coincidence. Yet his superior, Charlie Zailer, disagrees. Charlie's a bit disgruntled, having been long been in unrequited love with Simon. She watches as Simon begins to fall for the lovely Alice, and she is not happy. Not happy at all.

And then, one week into the investigation, things get even more complicated when Alice and the baby (not-Florence, whom Alice has dubbed Little Face) disappear...

Hannah's characters are wonderfully, intricately developed. Alice's MIL, Vivienne, is an elegant woman with impeccable manners. She is used to getting exactly what she wants, and she brooks no dissent. Alice herself is painted with vivid colors: her fatigue and depression leap up and off of the book's pages. Her growing desperation and fear for her own sanity -- and eventually for her life -- is startling and yet completely believable under the circumstances. David's refusal to consider that the child whom he has has been nurturing (and whom he continues to nurture) is not his own is expressed ever so chillingly as anger at his wife for needlessly "doing this" to him and Florence.

The book is engaging throughout. And though I was able to predict one facet of its ending well in advance, I was still greatly surprised by a plot twist revealed only at the very end of the book.

Little Face is a well-crafted, well-written thriller. I look forward to reading more from first-time novelist Sophie Hannah.

You may order this book from Amazon:

The Pre-Wii

I wish I could tell you that my boys weren’t allowed to play video games. I wish. But we, their parents, lost that battle a year and a half ago. We were outmaneuvered by my father-in-law, who must have spent some time practicing his strategy in front of the mirror – it was just that smooth. We were all in Target when Grandpa said, loudly, authoritatively, and within earshot of the boys, “I was thinking of buying each boy a Nintendo DS.” And that was it. The purchase was made right there, right then. Clever grandpa, he’d known that it would be impossible for his son and daughter-in-law to take a moral stand smack in the middle of the electronics department at Target.

And the video games have some benefits for me and my husband, I won’t deny it, especially on long car trips. Still, we’ve had a chronic issue with the DS: Six wants to play the same games as Ten, because, well, he wants to be Ten, but Ten’s games are too difficult for Six to manage on his own, so he’s always seeking Ten’s help, which makes Ten angry, which makes Six whine, which makes Ten slam his door, which makes Six scream, and so on, and so on, and so on…

Enter VTech’s new V-Motion Active Learning System, which I agreed to review for the Parent Bloggers Network. It’s essentially a Wii for the pre-Wii set. Intended for three- to seven-year-olds (“junior gamers,” according to VTech’s literature), the V-Motion system is an attempt to blend educational and active play in one unit.

Six spent the better part of a day exploring V-Motion when it first arrived. Ten joined in on the fun as well, but as he’s Ten, I didn’t pay much attention to his take on the gaming system. (Although, in the interest of full disclosure, I will report that overall, he liked it.) Here’s what Six and I thought:

• The V-Motion is easy to set up and hook into the TV.

• The games that come with the unit are fun, but not all that challenging intellectually for a six-, almost seven-year-old, even when played at the more advanced of two levels.

• Tennis was a clear favorite at our house, with snowboarding a close second.

• Six loved using the motion-activated feature of the wireless controller, although I’m not sure I’d call it “active play,” as VTech does. Let’s just say that he never broke a sweat.

• One of the best features of the system is that in playing games, the user accrues points that, by virtue of a USB device, he or she can transfer to VTech’s website in order to unlock bonus computer games.

• We've grown a bit tired of the game offerings that come with the system. VTech sells other games (via “V-Motion Smartridges,” i.e. cartridges) at $24.99 a pop, but we haven’t tried those out yet.

Bottom line? If Six were Three, Four, or Five, the V-Motion system would have much more staying power at our house. It's entertaining – no doubt about it. But I’d suggest to VTech that V-Motion be relabeled as appropriate for three- to six-year-olds. Because while Six may feel nothing but frustration as he tries to play Ten’s DS games, he isn’t really challenged enough when he plays V-Motion.

There’s gotta be a middle ground, right? Poor Six.

Three-, four-, and five-year-olds would love V-Motion, I’m sure of it. But a six-year-old? Is more likely to be coveting a Wii. Especially if he or she has an older sibling.

FYI: The VTech V-Motion gaming system retails for $69.99.

Sleep is for the Weak: Finally, Some Truths about Parenting

Sleep Is for the Weak is a compilation of essays written by some of the most widely read mommybloggers out there (e.g., Finslippy, Fussy, Mom-101, Motherhood Uncensored, & Sweetney). The pieces are grouped by theme. There's a section on sleep (or the lack thereof), and another on diapers (or the lack thereof, AKA potty-training). Some of the essays are less age- and stage-specific; these address the seismic shifts in self-identity brought about by parenthood.

Rita Arens, the editor of Sleep Is for the Weak, selected essays that, though they concern a wide range of topics and lie on a continuum from exceedingly specific to highly general, are consistently funny and honest. For good or bad, this book sheds light on parenthood as it is practiced in the twenty-first century: with humor and honesty. And if you're new to this parenting thing, you want funny and honest, believe me. I wish there had been a book like this when I joined the motherhood club. Instead, I read tomes about what (not) to expect (and what (not) to eat, down to the last crumb) and how (not) to breastfeed (as if words can help with that). There wasn't a whole lot of funny, right at a time when I needed to laugh most.

These essays bring the funny in spades (except when they're sweetly poignant instead). "Aren't Doctors Supposed to Make You Feel Better?" (Mom-101) is laugh-out-loud funny, and so very true. Pediatricians can (and do) sometimes make parents feel smaller than their offspring. "When Toddlers Rule" (Finslippy) had me howling over the dictatorial ways of toddlers. Ditto for "If Richard III Had a Four-Year-Old" (Laid-Off Dad), which sends up preschoolers' tendencies to talk and talk and talk without necessarily having anything to say. Oh, and the fun doesn't end when children go to elementary school. "Mama, Who Invented the Speculum?" (Woulda Coulda Shoulda) is a hilarious account of a visit to the gynecologist's with school-age daughters in tow.

Sleep Is for the Weak is a quick and engaging read. I'd recommend it for any new parent, whose reading time is limited at best. The short essays in this book are easily digestible for the sleep-deprived and stressed-out parents of newborns and toddlers.

I do think that Arens may have limited herself when she decided to feature relatively popular mommybloggers in this compilation. There are so many mommybloggers out there, and there's so much wonderful, wonderful writing. I don't envy Arens her task of selecting such a small number of posts to be included in her collection, but at the same time, I think she might have culled her choices from a larger pool of writers. It troubles me that some of the Sleep Is for the Weak writers have multiple essays in the book. Why not showcase more of the incredible talent that's to be found in the blogosphere?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the world needs many more volumes like this one. Because there's so much wisdom out there in the ether about all of the stages of childhood and adolescence, and about all of the stages of motherhood -- even the end-stage of mothering children who've left home for college and beyond. Drop-dead gorgeous writing about parenting abounds in blogland.

I am still hoping that the world sits up and takes notice of some of the astounding work being produced by mommybloggers on a daily basis. But Sleep Is for the Weak is a good start, a very good start.

Cutest. Cards. Ever.

I love the stationery at tiny*prints so much that I'd almost have another baby just so I could order some tiny*prints birth announcements.

Well, not really.

Still, the company's designs for photo birth announcements and birthday invitations are contemporary and cute. Stylin', even.

Here are some of my favorites:


Adorable, aren't they? I told you so.

Check out tiny*prints. You won't be sorry.