I saw this shirt advertised as a designated Christmas gift for math teachers.
I’m sorry, but this is bad math. If I were a math teacher and received this shirt, I would be horrified.
I understand that the designer meant to reference the song “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” specifically the line, “Fa lalalalalalalala.”
HOWEVER, that equation would require simple multiplication, NOT the use of an exponent. La to the eighth power would be FAR too many la’s.
It should be Fa + (8La).
As you can see, I spent WAY too much time thinking about this.
UPDATE: 10 NOVEMBER
My 13-year-old son got in the car today after school and said his math class was radical today.
“Get it?” he added. “RADICAL?”
Ah, I see the nerd apple does not fall far from the nerd tree…
I was talking to Boo, who has just started college, on the phone one night. I told her I’d just finished reading a book.
She said, “Is that another one of those books with the sad British kids on the cover?”
And I had to admit that, yes, it was….
I really have been reading a lot of these.
I may be in a bit of a reading rut here…
Little Boy is in eighth grade right now. I saw that he had recently googled “Why does homework exist?”
Although I understand these (honestly kind of preachy) answers given on Google, and of course I told my son that homework is good for him…. and he should DEFINITELY do his homework….
I don’t like homework any more than he does!
I ESPECIALLY don’t like it when I don’t know how to DO it!
Recently he had to study a bunch of equations on calculating the half-life of radioactive elements for his science class. I was lost, so we face-timed his dad, who is out of town for work right now.
That face perfectly describes how I feel about this homework assignment.
Seriously! Did I mention this kid is in EIGHTH GRADE?!?!
Why does homework exist again?
I recently downloaded some old-school Taylor Swift to my Spotify playlist and I was listening to it and singing along when I picked up the twins from the middle school.
In the passenger seat, Little Girl rolled her eyes and popped in her ear buds.
In the back seat I could hear Little Boy telling himself, “Remember, it’s not polite to criticize other people’s music choices….”
I thought: Number one, it’s good he’s learning how to be polite.
And, number two, I am SOOOOO uncool.
Updated: 29 September
I was again listening to my Spotify in the kitchen when Little Boy came in from outside. It was playing “Life Goes On” by Oliver Tree.
He said, “Oh this is a cool song!”
Then he paused. “Wait, is this on YOUR Spotify, Mom?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head in amazement.
AAAAND… I’m STILL uncool….
I plug my phone in at night near my bed, and usually it’s been on low power mode by the evening since it’s been used all day.
Then when gets up to 80% charge, it lights up excitedly, bragging about how CHARGED UP it is.
Usually this is around midnight, which is when you definitely don’t want to be woken up by flashing lights next to your face!
But there it sits on my nightstand, having a little solo iPhone party about how it’s FULLY CHARGED!
I don’t know why it’s so impressed with itself.
It’s at EIGHTY PERCENT. That’s like a B MINUS.
Get over yourself, iPhone!
I sent a group message to my husband and kids to ask what they wanted from McDonald’s.
Their answers were pretty varied:
I wasn’t able to get the secret to Ronald McDonald’s eternal youth, however….
Somehow, marketing has made women believe that we need different special moisturizers for each little part of our bodies.
And now they’re coming for the men…..
The other day I was getting some ketchup from my condiment drawer–
What? You don’t have a condiment drawer? What do you do with your ketchup packets then?
Anyways…. I noticed that all my ketchup packets had little holes, like something had been CHEWING on them.
Could there be mice in the house? Oh surely not!
We have not one, but TWO cats in the house! How could a mouse dare to come and nibble my ketchup packets? I showed my husband, and he bought a mousetrap.
I threw away the condiments and set a trap in the drawer…
The next morning, my husband checked the drawer and sent me this:
Goodbye, Ketchup Mouse…
Last year at this time I would have laughed at the idea of wearing a mask to go out.
The idea of “protective face masks” would have conjured up crazy images.
This year…. I have a DESIGNATED MASK RACK in my laundry room.
I guess this is progress…