Adventures in Real Parenting: Look at Me! My Pee Has No Color!

I think I may change The Dancer's blog name to Ed Begley, Jr. Junior. Over spring break, she's developed this really annoying habit of watching Planet Green and then attempting to impart the information to us boring us to tears and sharing her views on how unhealthy and unfriendly to the environment we, as a family, are. I guess it's better than the moody moping on the floor of blogging ops, but still.

Wanna know why an increase in pork consumption is bad for the environment or why we should eat more anchovies? How about the process for composting human waste? Nope? Neither did I. That didn't stop her from telling me as I slumped over the kitchen table and whined for MathMan to come rescue me from the onslaught of information.

Perhaps more worrisome is the fact that she's also developed a nerd crush on Bill Nye the Science Guy. And when you say Bill Nye the Science Guy at our house, you have to do the Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! from the theme song. Not that I have anything against science guys per se, but on top of all the other weird young adult angsty stuff we're suffering with The Dancer, the idea that she might run off with some guy with a super hot Bunsen Burner provides some cause for alarm. Outside of her short-lived drooling over Edward of Twilight fame, The Dancer is not one who crushes.

Before she turned all low-flow toilets and bamboo sheets on us, she could at least be coaxed to do some rather environmentally subversive things. Mind you, this had limits. Just as she was not prone to crushes, she was not much of a rule breaker. Even so, she had her fun moments.

For example, recently, she and I visited the the bottled water aisle of our local grocery store a few days ago. We were desperate for drink. We discussed the different types of water, which bottle shapes and colors we preferred, compared prices and perused the nutrition labels of the various bottles stacked on the shelves.

Skating right up to the edge of full tilt jocularity, we burst into giggles after misquoting the bit by comedian Lewis Black thinking it was New Jersey instead of Pittsburgh, then, upon looking at the next bottle I picked up, found that it was, indeed, distributed from New Jersey.

Half loopy from the hilarity, we left with several bottles of melted glaciers, tears of angels, ionically separated, and organically filtered spring, artesian, mineral and purifed waters so that we could do a "taste test."

The good news is that we can reuse some of those really nice bottles. However, The Dancer cautions that they cannot be washed in the dishwasher. So we will reuse. That's a good thing.

The bad news is that the waters have not lived up to their promises. I have not turned into the tall, blond, cool-eyed Nordic goddess I expected to be. Imagine my astonished disappointment. I mean, if I can't believe in the transformative powers of melted glaciers, why the hell should I care about climate change?

When Ed Begley, Jr. Junior finds out that I wrote that, there's going to be a fight. Bring it on, I say. Bring. It. On.*



*I'll get her with my high fructose corn syrup gun. That'll teach her.