They have a nice aquarium at the Academy of Sciences.

Pre-school illnesses that befell us by the end of January, obviously did not intend to leave us anytime soon. As soon as we recovered from one round of sniffles, more complication arrived. Kids were found to have rotten teeth, and drilling was the only option. They are both relatively brave, but Lisa was so fascinated by getting her mouth numbed that she kept trying to bite her lip. Our dentist implored me to watch her, for she was biting it all the time, but apparently I failed. Lisa kept licking her lips and checking it out long after the numbing had ceased to have an effect, and might have continued to bit her lip while sleeping. On Friday before Valentine she woke up with a face of a (very) exotic dancer, her lower lip hanging below her chin. I am now quite convinced that it is rather simple to embed e.g. a small plate in one's lower lip. A cursory examination revealed that while Lisa had no plate implanted there, she still looked rather scary. So we decided against her going to pre-school, and our little Lizzy broke down weeping that they have a Valentine and it can't be she'd miss it.

Either way, we were supposed to bring strawberries to the pre-school party, and I took Lisa along to see, what her teacher would say. They eventually convinced her to come back for their Valentine grab-bag after lunch, and I thought that she might feel better at home, sipping liquid food through a straw. By noon we drove to Tom's school to pick him up — and just passed him on to Stefan's a few streets down; Lisa and I returned home. Lisa cried that she, too, wanted to stay at Stefan's, but then she cried on the way home that her ear was aching. She had a fever, which with half of her mouth inflamed made me quite uneasy and I called the doctor's number. While I was waiting to get connected, I began to chop onion into our magic pot for dinner. It was eleven fifty. A doctor's receptionist tole me that they could see me at 12:15 - or at half past four. I quickly decided that the latter would be much more complicated, adding Tom into the fray, so I threw cubed meat on the onion, switched the pot on and raced at a neck-breaking pace those twenty miles northwards to the clinic. I don't recall breaking any laws getting there by 12:19, which I consider a great achievement.

Parrots entertained us while we stood in a line for the tropical pavilion.

The doctor gasped at the sight of our exotic dancer and said that even in the case Lisa's ear were all right, she'd recommend antibiotics, for there are lots of bacteria in one's mouth and it would be unpleasant to get all Lisa's mucous membranes inflamed. Then she confirmed an inner ear infection, and we were in the clear. For once Lisa did not make any fuss. Doctor was praising her how very brave she was, especially when swallowing a whole serving of ibuprofen. A second round of my race driving ensued; to the drugstore for pills, home to gulp down some kind of lunch — and to Stefan's to pick up Tom.

Thus we entered into Friday at the beginning of spring break. Our children have been so far hundred percent successful in covering any and all time off with their illnesses (just to refresh your memory - Tom was sick on Halloween, on Thanksgiving we drove four hundred miles in a single stretch from Lone Pin due to Tom's strep throat, on Christmas Lisa got an inner ear infection, now followed by another such during spring break, enhanced by her chewed-up lip). It began to dawn on me that our plan to take our kids skiing has been somewhat silly. To top it off, Tom contracted his laryngitidis, and for several nights we had to spend either in the shower or driving around a nightly city. Sid's workplace has entered an intermittent phase of high stress, and he would defend any need for extra time off with difficulty.

I could only capture the bottom side of this otherwise beautifully blue butterfly on a glass.

In the end I was rather glad when Simča asked us out on a trip to Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. Simona had received a guest pass with her annual membership, which saved us a lot of money. But of course when in the morning I was relying on kids getting up at seven, junior took to drawing quietly and lasted till eight. When Simča sent a message about leaving Santa Cruz, I was just getting to my morning coffee. Before we finished throwing out all the stuff from our bus and installing two more car seats, we picked up a mild delay. Eventually all six of us (Simona, myself, and our combined four children) loaded in our sienna; I just made sure that Simča knew where we were going. Our family tends to avoid San Francisco; we're not into the City and thus are perfectly lost there.

Alas, we had no notion of San Francisco having declared their spring break (which is usually spread from February to April), and already the underground garage at Academy was rather full. Kids did not mind that as they were strongly looking forward to the "muzelum". African pavilion was the first in order. Stuffed animals seemed starting at first, but I must admit they had an appeal. Juniors were glad to inspect zebras and lions up close, without glancing across three moats and a steel bar cage to something that just might be a lion's behind in a hideaway cave. The pavilion was quite well organized and spacious, which especially Simona and I appreciated — it was easy to watch mere four children. Stuffed animals were interspersed by live exhibits — e.g. penguins. The highlight was a pair of very nimble lizards, who stuck out their tongues at the kids and ran around their den.

A suspended spiral walkway climbs three stories up.

At noon we had lunch; Tom and Lisa each got a portion of fish and chips — on one hand it's a delicacy that they are rarely allowed by their evil mother, on the other hand they prepare everything fresh at the Academy — they battered and fried the fish right in front of us and I must say, it was excellent. Even our poor eater Lisa stuffed herself enormously. Tommy always rejoices with supply of food, being charged with new energy, but the three-year-old Max, who's used to sleep after lunch, began to fade. We walked together through the aquarium, but then Simona took her offspring into a baby corner and I succumbed to Tom's urging to see butterflies.

A glazed dome is found in the midst of the Academy, with controlled climate, containing a rain forest exposition with free flying butterflies and birds. A rather large queue wrapped around the dome, and I hardly felt like waiting. In retrospect I must say that I am glad Tom talked me into it. The queue was not so bad, for it led across a bridge over the aquarium, and the kids could gaze at the water and watch fish; later we advanced to the glass wall of the dome, and we could see things inside. It turned out that this was actually the best way observe quarreling parrots. Tom and Lisa managed to follow them for most of our time in the queue, and have been playing parrots since then at home. Alas, they overheard and practice quite convincing parrot screeching, and our neighbors certainly think by now we have started a whole nursery. Naturally, our own "parrots" fight and needle each other, which gives cause to especially loud screeching, and we expect Animal Protective Services' visit any day now.

Hecale Longwing.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. From the queue, we could see some butterflies, but by then we were already approaching an entrance. I tried to explain to my kids what a rain forest is and what they could expect inside. I'm not sure how much I succeeded, for after entering Lisa exclaimed, "this is a jungle, I know this" — I don't know why I did not think of the word, jungle, but at last the children understood. A suspended spiral walkway winds through the dome, reaching a three story elevation. Kids were completely thrilled by the forest, butterflies, frogs, birds — and I must admit that I was, too. I took pictures like obsessed and some of them might have even turned out OK — you can view them in the gallery.

From the highest point above the forest tree tops we took an elevator down into the basement, beneath the surface of a tropical stream. Earlier in the forest we were wondering how could people get themselves below the "river", until we figured it out. For the next time we know that one can enter the tunnel directly from the aquarium. At this point we have practically exhausted all the attractions that the Academy was offering — and could head home in peace. Maxík was completely finished and Margo had trouble standing up straight. My kids are somewhat older than Simona's (Tom is one year older than Margo, and Lisa is one and half year older than Maxík), and so they were still jumping and running about — their age is showing and the fact that they got long unused to afternoon napping. I was very happy that Tom and Lisa enjoyed the Academy so much and liked all those beautifully strange things they had seen, and that they were able and willing to last out the long queue for the jungle.

Sapho Longwing

We got back home by four thirty (and I had naively counted on making Lisa's ballet by three — HAHA). Tom begged for Margo being allowed to stay and play. He was very surprised how soon the time came for dinner and Margo had to go home. His day must have been passing fast, too.

On Saturday afternoon I left my Hippo with the kids at home, donned a t-shirt and sweatpants, put on my rubber slipper, and drove twenty five miles to the climbing wall to attend a yoga class specifically tailored for climbers. I arrived only about a minute late, but the teacher wasn't in the classroom yet, and I felt smug about it. She did not show up in the next five minutes, and one active participant went to ask at the front desk, what should happen with the class. The front desk stated that they were trying to contact said teacher, and failing to reach her. Then someone remembered that the teacher had said she would be gone and someone was to stand in. Well, apparently things did not get planned or realized.

I must say that I was rather agitated — having had to organize my family to have my time off, having had to drive a half hour there (plus another back). I did not bring my gear along to compensate and climb (and the gym is not heated and I only wore a t-shirt), I had the wrong shoes for treadmills (wearing oversized rubber slippers), not to mention the same problem with (absent) heating. I pondered what now; people were slowly leaving the yoga classroom and when a much less scary number of them remained, I announced that while not being a yoga instructor, I could go through a bikram yoga set, so that we would get our exercise. Bikram yoga has a fixed sequence of postures, thus I did not need to think about it much and was also more or less secure that we would not hurt ourselves with some difficult pose at a wrong time.

How did these people get under water?

Five brave souls completed this improvised class with me. One young muscle faltered and left about five minutes before the end, but the rest of them showed considerable resolve and patience with my English and vacuous memory. I had a great fun, for I haven't commanded anyone for many years (having ended my teacher's career eighteen years ago); it was informative to find out I still had it in me. (Sid's note: how come these other times, e.g. marriage, don't count?) Furthermore, I tried to demonstrate all poses properly, and I had to talk while doing so, and on the next day I felt very sore -- I bet that a regular class of climber's yoga would not wear me out this much. Finally, I could rejoice at the thought that I did not sacrifice the whole hassle with family organization and driving across the Valley up and down in vain.

On a Sunday at the end of the holidays we concluded that our juniors have recovered, and took them ice skating. We went about four times last season; only once in Palo Alto in this winter. Entering the ice, Tom began to squeal how bad the ice was, for it was unusually slippery. Lisa had an eager face while she could grasp someone hand, but woe should she let go. I was issued extremely dull skates that made me fight them. In my mind I got ready for a tough afternoon, but Tom suddenly let go and, swinging all his limbs in improbable directions which chilled the blood in my veins, took off at a neck-breaking pace around the rink. I don't know why at this moment I recalled a story of my long-gone grandfather, who's friend had managed to cut the back of his own head with his skates. Tommy did not (yet) manage such a feat, but given the amplitude of his limbs' movements, it suddenly seemed a real possibility now.

Siblings under water.

Once Tommy sped off, our skating quickly took on a brisk tempo. My Hippo and I took turns in dragging Lisa and chasing Tom, both panting heavily after a mere hour of doing so. In addition, I had a distinct feeling that my legs would fall off any time now — I was barely able to walk after all that yoga, and now skating did not improve it.

During the month of February, our troubles with Lisa and her refusal to eat, have escalated again. Our daughter weighs some thirty pounds and long and tiresome scenes ensue during every meal, to make her ingest even a little bit. We tried everything, including here being made to sit for an hour at dinner, she would still eat only about two tea spoons of rice. One extreme came to pass when Tommy told me that ants were crawling over Lisa bedside cabinet. Used to Tom's exaggerations, I ventured to brush off the one poor ant, and found a two inch wide highway of black beasts marching in unison, winding from behind Lisa's bed over her pillows, stuffed animals, curtains and books on the top surface into the depths of the cabinet. By then my blood pressure was reaching stroke levels; I was certain Lisa had placed some food inside, but I was really expecting something like a bitten apple, not several practically complete, hidden lunches. Dark spots were dancing before my eyes, especially when remembering her innocent face and sentence, "I finished everything, can I have chocolate now?"

My anger lingered for long — it was necessary to change the bed covers, vacuum mattresses and curtains, clean the stuffed animals, disassemble foam puzzle on the floor and wash ants off of individual pieces; go through all books and toys, poisoning ants' access routes, then vent and wash everything — and then put it all back etc. Lisa finds ants horribly yucky, so she had (with much noise and hysterics) to help. She's grounded regarding chocolate and we even removed cocoa from the morning milk and cereal (sweet) bars for snack in the pre-school. I don't know if it's going to accomplish anything — it seems that Lisa eats a little bit more, but we shall simply have to wait and see. I hope we will teach her not to store uneaten food in her bedroom.