UPDATE: I’ve gotten some comments (true or not, I don’t know) that this woman is a cancer survivor and I need to walk a mile in her shoes before I judge her. That is very true. If that’s the case, I certainly apologize to the woman. I’m glad she’s found a conveyance that gets her through her day. I’m also glad she’s using a proper crosswalk.

Yes, you’ve probably seen this picture before, but it’s too good to resist: the woman on a Segway pushing a stroller across the street.

This is so awesome. You have to give it to the woman for being on the cutting-edge of non-calorie-burning conveyance. Add that to the fact that she’s putting her child in vehicular danger, and she gets my vote for goofiest-parent-of-the-year award.

If you’re interested, here’s an interview with the person who snapped the pic.

We’ve all put our kids in dangerous situations (e.g., put them in a cab with no child seat, etc). What’ve you done?

As we count down to D(elivery)-Day, many folks have been asking me if we have names picked out yet (since we chose not to find out the gender, we had double the name-finding to do).

I reply “Yeah, we’ve got names.” And they expectantly ask, “Well?” wanting to be let in on the decision.

But I won’t budge. I feel as though it would jinx those names if I let them circulate. I haven’t even told my best friend yet. Nor have I told my family members as they have been known to be quite forthright in their opinions. Who really wants to hear, “You’re serious about that name? What’s the significance? Aren’t their better options?” It tends to make one feel unsure about the decision.

Besides, we’re creating a brand here. We hope this kid will live to be at least 80. That’s alot of years living with this name. Companies pay big money to develop product names and keep them hidden from the public until the launch date.

I’ve been keeping a tight, WWII-style rein on information dispersion. My wife, however, hasn’t been quite so disciplined. When her sister was over the other day, she asked if we had a boy name picked out and my wife answered without hesitation: “S____.” Her sister said, “I just got goosebumps.”

Guess I neglected to let my wife in on my whole “keeping it a secret” plan.

Walking down the avenue the other day, my wife and I literally almost stumbled upon this rather cumbersome tranportation device.

As we were in a kid-heavy part of town, the stores tend to cater to parents who have copious disposable income for anything related to their offspring. To that end, the bikeshop was proudly offering the Zigo Leader. Apparently, this bike’s reason-for-being is the ability to detach the front portion and use it as a stand-alone runner/stroller. You can even take one of the wheels and use it on the bike to make it a “regular looking” two wheeler.

Should you be so inclined, this thing can be purchased for $1400 through the Zigo website.

There’s no question that this is a clever bike/stroller design. But was the engineering/time/energy to jam all this stuff together well-spent? Why not have a bike and a stroller, then get rid of the stroller when your kid’s old enough–instead of having an interdependent system? (And please don’t say it’s for “space reasons.” If you can have this in your home, you most likely have a garage, so space isn’t an issue)

What it all boils down to is this: do you really want to be the dude on the tricycle?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll love riding a trike around the retirement community when I’m 80, but until then I’ll be rocking the typical child’s seat mounted on a regular bike.

Readers weigh in: would you really use something like this?

This could make me rich, but I’m going to throw it out there anyway.

Anyone got the guts/investment money to start a new maternity boutique?

The Chuck E. Cheese’s at the Atlantic Crossing Mall in Brooklyn, NY is not just one of Dante’s circles of hell, it is all of them jammed together.

If you’re a parent, you’ve been forced to bring your kid to many a fellow-toddler’s birthday party. You grin. Bear it. Grind your teeth. Cry a little inside. Suffer the gift opening. Choke down the cake. And leave as quickly as possible.

I accompanied my wife to the mall on a recent Saturday, and while she waited in a lengthy Target returns line, I wandered around and spotted crowds of people on the floor above. Curious as to what the commotion was about, I investigated: they were all waiting to get into Chuck E. Cheese’s. It was a cold day, so every kid’s birthday party in Brooklyn seemed to be happening here at once.

I decided to walk straight into the mouth of hell to prepare myself for the eventuality of having to go to these birthday parties. A kind of “boot camp” to discover if I could handle the stress.

The line just to get inside was intense and long. Not one of the parents looked amused, nor psychologically prepared for the onslaught. When they did reach the interior, they were jostled by stressed-out parents trying to escape–but first they had to exchange their children’s tickets for trashy, plastic gifts at the redemption counter.

These were good parents who were simply giving in to their children’s constant demands to hang out with an anthropomorphic rat. But their patience was being tested to the limit, and the milk of human kindness was scarce.

I could not investigate further because the place was at capacity. They weren’t letting any more people in until more folks left. Lucky me.

Chuck E. Cheese’s has always had a place in my heart. It’s where I took my wife on our first date. And where my best childhood friend had his bachelor party. While Chuck E.’s animatronic band will always have a place in my nightmares, I know that in the near future it will all become a very real nightmare: my kid on a sugar-high, bouncing around in what is basically a grimy indoor playground.

Questions:

a) How do they clean the “ball pit”?

b) DO they clean the ball pit?

c) What does the “E” stand for? Excruciating?

d) What’s your worst “kid’s party” memory?

And now for something completely unnecessary: introducing the Löopa Bowl!

In the same vein as “childproofing everything in your house,” some folks have brought us a new and improved bowl that’s “easy to carry” for kids, and keeps the contents from spilling. For some reason, we doubt it could even be close to 100% efficacious.

Since it uses the same physics as the gimbal, shouldn’t they have called it the “Gimbowl”? Or is that too science-nerdy?

Questions:

A) If you have one, does it work?

B) Should this product even exist?

From New York magazine’s “Grubstreet” food blog, we learn that chef Daniel Angerer is making cheese from his wife’s breast milk.

You heard that right.

Does this gastro-gaffe seem like a blatant stunt to you? Oh no, Monsieur Angerer claims the idea stemmed from his natural inclination to explore:

“Being a chef, you’re curious about anything in terms of flavor — you look out for something new and what you can do with it.”

Mmm hmm, by the same logic, he could make “Sweat Soup.”

Speaking of human food: some cultures eat the mother’s placenta after the baby’s born. That’s a fine thing for him to experiment with next at his restaurant–since he’s all about about curiosity and flavor.

Sure, there are some foods that are inherently delicious, but we shut ourselves off from liking them because we know what they are. Say we ate head cheese or sweetbreads without being wise to their provenance–it’s possible that we’d like it. But most of us like to know what we’re eating. Yeah, that can be prejudicial, but hey…I’d rather not eat haggis.

I’m sure the whole experiment was designed to garner publicity for his restaurant. It certainly got my attention: because now I know which eatery to avoid.

Angerer’s wife is clearly onboard the stunt-train. After all, she has to pump for hours to get the requisite amount to make the cheese. Angerer calls it “My Spouse’s Mommy Milk Cheese,” and has written about it on his blog, but we’d rather not help send him any traffic.

(If you must read more about this culinary misadventure, check out the full story at New York magazine’s Grubstreet blog.)

How about you: would you try cheese made from your own wife’s milk? How about a stranger’s cheese?

Band of Fathers contributor Jeff Brecker wants to alert you to a facebook meme that’s sweeping the nation, called “My Sister Said If I Get One Million Fans She Will Name Her Baby Megatron.”

Certainly, it will never happen. The whole thing might even be a hoax (I don’t honestly believe the Internet would ever allow a hoax). But what if? What if there were a chance for a beautiful baby to live their life with an even more beautiful name?

This uncle’s dream has gathered about 7,000 fans (and it all started on Saturday) .

Won’t you please become a fan?

I may be totally fooling myself, but I have to believe it’s possible to have a family and still drive a smaller car.

Lately, I’ve been reading alot about the Honda Fit. It scores mad-high ratings with all the mags (Car&Driver, Consumer Reports, etc.), but is obviously on the small side. Still, couldn’t it work as a family car? Most parents today would scoff at the notion of being able to cram one kid and their crap into such a car (much less two kids). But back in the day, my mom did that very thing with her VW Type 4 wagon.

Are times really that different?

Well, yes and no. YES in that the “Baby Industrial Complex” (thanks Stephen Winkler) has gotten so huge, we are made to believe each child must travel with 23 cubic feet of stuff. NO in that babies only really eat, crap, and sleep so all you really need are food, diapers, and clothing.

Did my parents find it impossible to fit us into the ’70s VW? Apparently not, In 1980 they ‘upgraded’ to the Rabbit Diesel. The four of us traveled in that tiny, 48hp car from Michigan to California and back (granted, for that two-month, long-haul trip we had the Sears X-Cargo mounted to the top).

Yes, I know it’s different these days. But I reject the notion that it can’t be done. I realize that the one major drawback to the smaller car is that you’re not going to be able to carpool. That luxury goes to the parents with third rows in their Expeditions/Suburbans/etc. So with the small car, you’ll end up having to take your kid back/forth to each event or game.

Many parents say it and then eventually succumb, but “I will not be getting a minivan.” Does this make me naive? Will I become an eventual hypocrite when I realize how much stuff we have to carry to and fro?

As a side note, my wife is not a fan of the of the Fit, because she doesn’t think it’s remotely feasible size-wise. I want to stand my ground and prove her wrong. But if/when it doesn’t work, there will be years of hell to pay.

Cadillac Escalade here we come!

What did you guys do? Start small and then upgrade later? Stay strong with small? Or super-size it?

This baby bottle from Mimijumi is getting rave reviews.

It’s called the “Very Hungry” and was designed with the help of lactation experts, docs and moms.

The nipple for the bottle was, “…designed to mimic mother’s breast.” Uh, yeah, we think that’s been achieved.

On Mimijumi’s website are some testimonials. One gal from Louisiana was simply loving it:

“Gibson usually doesn’t like bottles, she prefers breastfeeding (and she does not take bottles from me at all) but latched on great to your bottle. It was unbelievable! I am just happy that she takes your bottle from me. It is a relief that I don’t have to keep whipping out the boob in public!”

Gibson can be a handful, I’m sure. And “whipping out the boob” is never fun.

Here’s where to buy the bottle that won a Spark design award. What they didn’t win any awards for is racial sensitivity: a friend pointed out that it “mimics the breast,” but only that of a caucasian’s. What about other moms?

A question for experienced dads: if you had a baby that wasn’t taking to the bottle, wouldn’t it be worth $18 for one that worked?