An old standard.

Ah, the kindergarten group. 5 and 6 year old kids. They are truly a joy. It's been a while since I have written about the wonder of the pre-k grade level.

This group was very excited. They all had questions as the lights were going down.

"Are we going to see stars?" one kid asked.

"What do you think?" I responded.

"Maybe!" he aswered excitedly.

"Are we going to see planets?!" another asked.

"What do you think?" I said again.

"Maybe!" was the response.

"Are we going to see the moon??!!??" a third asked. Each of these was asked with slightly more fervor than the last.

"Well, what do you think?"

"MAYBE!" a couple kids said together, and they all giggled.

A girl was kind of hunched down in her seat with her hand up. "Do you have a question?" I approached and asked her.

"Am I going to scream my eyes out?" she asked.

Whoa. That was unexpected. But a couple kids, as if ready for this, yelled out, "MAYBE!"

"I don't think you will, actually," I told her. She looked very unconvinced.



She actually did not scream her eyes out; in fact, I don't think she screamed at all, thank goodness.

Later, at the end of the show, there was time for questions.

One boy raised his hand, "Is O'Brien going to kill Thomas?" (He pronounced "Thomas" like this: "Toe-mas".)

It took me a second to figure this one out. I remembered we had looked at Orion and Taurus, and saw that they were right next to each other in the sky.

And, I had said that they were fighting up in the sky.

"His name is actually Orion, not O'Brien," I told the kid.

"Is he going to kill Toe-mas?" he asked, this time with more urgency.

"Taurus," I told him. "Taurus the Bull."

"Is O'Brien going to kill Toe-mas?" he asked, as if the last 15 seconds had never occured.

"No, they are kind of just stuck there, frozen in the same spot," I told him.

"OK," he said.

"Are there any other questions?" I asked.

I looked around the room, but the only hand up was the one boy who had just asked me the previous question. I looked around one more time to see if anyone else had a question. It was only him. "Yes?" I prompted him.

"Is Toe-mas gonna kill O'Brien?"

"It's Taurus," I told him, "Taurus the Bull. And Orion."

(You know exactly what his response was...) "Is Toe-mas gonna kill O'Brien?" he asked identically.

"Nope. They're stuck next to each other. I think they're friends, actually."

He gave me look which seemed to indicate that he knew I was lying.

Uh-oh!

I had a group of Brownie Girl Scouts last week. There were about 20 of them, all 2nd graders, and they were actually pretty into it. The parents told them that they really need to listen during the program, and the kids did! This part does not make for a good Blog.

The little brother that came along, however, does.

This kid was about 3 years old. He was sitting with his mother, and was a little chatty as I started my Mr. Astronomy Guy bit. Then, he noticed the lights were coming down, and his eyes got very wide as he said, "Uh-oh!"

The parents and kids laughed. I did, too, to be honest.

Boy, did he like the attention.

For the rest of the program, everytime something would change -- if I put on a slide, or move the sky, or even use my laser pointer, he would say it: "Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

"Uh-oh!"

It was funny the first 83 times. Then it got old. Even the brownies were getting tired of it...

One of them said, "Cut it out, or I'm going to step on you like a bug!"

Although I appreciated the sentiment, I thought that a little harsh.

"That was a little harsh," I told her.

"It's OK," she said, "He's my brother. I step on him all the time."

"I see," I said. (I was reminded a little bit of the "kick the baby" bits in South Park.)


The Uh-oh Kid actually did say one other thing during the show worth mentioning... We were watching a rocket launch of the Mars rover video, and the Main Engine separation occured -- basically a giant chunk of the rocket falls back, leaving only the very front end of it left. At this point he said, "Mommy?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"Why does the head pop off?"

Shout, shout, let it all out...

Warning: this entry is a little lowbrow (which is really saying something -- I'm generally as lowbrow as they come). This actually happened a few days back, and I wasn't sure if I was going to tell the tale, but it's been a while since I've made an entry so I figured that I'd better do something. So here goes...

Last week I had a group of 5th graders. This story is not about them, but they were in the room. They were a good bunch of kids, really, for 5th grade. They were a little excited, but in a rather appropriate way.

Before I go on, I need to flash back to the night before, when I scarfed down a bunch of frozen burritos for dinner (you may see where this is going). In the morning, there was a little stomach gurgling going on, but I figured I could handle it.

During the show, the gurgling increased. It percolated down the intestinal tract seeking an escape route.

Normally, during a program, I venture out and wander amidst the crowd. But this time I was way too scared that the foul last-night-burrito gas would find its way out unexpectedly. Even though I was sitting still, it was still distracting me from what I needed to be talking about. I knew I would either need to poot, or the program would suffer.

And then I remembered! The Mars Rover Video! I could put that on! When is there noise in it that I could use for cover? It's pretty quiet throughout. Except during the rocket launch! If I could time it just right...

A few moments later I got to the portion of the program where the Mars Rover video happened. I pinched my cheeks tightly closed as I took a couple penguin steps over to the projector and hit play. The movie begins with an view of the rocket, and pans down as the countdown begins. It's always easy to get the kids into it as I yell the countdown...

"10!!..... 9!!..... 8!!....." They were counting down to a rocket launch, I was counting down to a tiny little window of relief. I had to time it just right, though.

"7!!..... 6!!.... " And then I realized -- sometimes a fart lasts longer than a second, and that's about all the time I would have so that the blast from my ass would be drowned out by the blast of the rocket. I hoped I hadn't contained this one so long that an extended vent was necessary. I almost aborted... but I knew this was my only shot to let loose without losing the respect of the entire room.

"5!!..... 4!!..... 3!!..... " Almost there. Relax, just a little bit, but not too much! Almost there...

"2!!..... 1!!!" And they all screamed in unison: "BLAST OFF!!"

And I did.

And I felt much better.


The rest of the show went fine.

A New Announcement

At the beginning of every public program, I ask people, for the courtesy of myself and all the patrons, to turn off their cell phones, pagers, Nokia n-gages (though there are only 11 of them in the world, I think), Gameboys, Gameboy Advances, watch alarms, heart monitoring equipment or anything else that might make a beepy sound during the program. I explain where the exits are and explain that they are just that: exits. There is no re-entry during a program.

I apparently need to mention one more thing: No flash photography during the show.

During my 1:00 show this Saturday, someone took a picture while we were completely in the dark.

Ow.

I thought my eyeballs had exploded. I was happily talking away, pointing out some stars when **--FOOM!!--** a bright light filled my vision. I was pretty sure we were in the middle of a nuclear holocaust. But, alas, a few microseconds of neurons firing brought me up to speed: someone had snapped a picture.

Everyone was blinded for a moment. When my vision returned and my heartrate slowed back to something closer to normal, I explained, "We have a term for what just happened: A Complete Waste of Film. Really, you can't take pictures during the program, they won't come out, and you blind the rest of us."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then a voice that seemed to be of a boy about ten years old spoke up, "It wasn't me!"

We all laughed. The comment was funny if it was him, and maybe even funnier if it wasn't.

I had a group of first graders this morning. I didn't expect it to go well, basically because I've been in a sort of negative mood lately -- at least related to dealing with kids for an hour.

But it turned out fine, really. Part of it was because they were all excited, giddy, and hyped up on the Mars Rover landing. It seemed to focus them a little. AND, I had lots of cool stuff about that, so they were grooving on it, big time.

One kid mentioned that the Rover itself looked like a "Scooter Dragon". It just baffles and amazes me -- the terms that kids come up with. The name actually kind of works, though. And I have the term - Scooter Dragon - stuck in my head. The term sounds like it might be good in some sort of alternate use. Possibly as a band name. Or as the name of a character in a martial arts movie. He'd be small, but he'd move fast! Scooter Dragon! I like it. Maybe I'll write him into a book one day. I should write it down so I don't forget... Scooter Dragon. Cool.

When the kids were filing out, one of the girls came up to me...

"I have to tell you something," she said to me.

I waited a second, eyes wide in expectation, for her to just continue, automatically, but apparently she needed me to prod her. "Go for it," I told her.

"You sound like the guy from Finding Nemo," she said.

"Oh," I said after about a 6 second pause, and some slightly confused blinking. "Thanks. I think."

And she filed away with the other students.


"WAIT!" I didn't get a chance to say... "WHAT GUY?" But I thought up the question too late. She was already gone.

And now I don't know. And probably won't ever know.

Looks like I won't be sleeping well tonight.

Did someone say "Birthday Party?"

HELP! I know I always complain about birthday parties. I know you're sick of it. And you know I will continue to whine. Sorry, but this is the nature of our relationship -- I whine, you read, and laugh at my expense. I works out, I think.

This particular party hasn't happened yet. It will be happening tomorrow. The father called me up today...

"Just wanted to let you know that we have filled up the Planetarium!" he beamed. "We have 45 kids and 35 adults!" He was ecstatic.

I was crushed. This can't go well. I just sat quietly on the line waiting for him to go on.

"Isn't that great?" He needed me to tell him how happy I was for him.

"Oh, yeah," I told him. "It makes it more worth while for me to come in on a Saturday." The subtext was supposed to indicate "Oh goody! I'm coming in on what would otherwise be my day off, and instead I not only get to deal with a small group of unruly kids, now it is an honest-to-goodness horde!" I don't think he got it, because he answered with...

"Ah, ha!" His subtext suggested to me -- "Eureka! I was right! This is a wonderful thing! See! I am superdad! All is right with the world!"

I almost began weeping openly right then.

"So," he continued, "can I bring down the car right to the door there so we can unload the food? And then later to unload the presents?"

"No," I told him. "Security really doesn't let people do that."

"Well why not?" He asked me.

"I'm not sure. Safety reasons, I guess. Liability and such."

"WHAT?" he said. "I'm safe!"

"I'm sure you are. It's just their policy." I was almost having fun now. There was no way I was going to let him talk me into this. The gauntlet has been thrown down! And it really is the policy.

"C'mon, just one trip down, then." He was haggling!! Haggling to be able to drive down.

"One is still more than none," I told him. "Security says 'no'."

"Arrgh." he said. He really said, "Arrgh." Like a pirate. A frustrated pirate.

"Well that's not a very good system!" he told me.

"We're not really set up just for birthday parties!" Once he started attacking 'the system', the battle was really on. "The Planetarium itself is really a classroom. We just do birthday parties on occasion as a sort of public service for kids who want an educational party."

"I don't know how you're going to keep having birthday parties with this system," Again with the system!! Don't mess with my system!

"Well," I grabbed this opportunity to say what I always wanted to, "we may be phasing out the birthday parties anyway." I said it! To a member of the public! It was exhilarating! No more parties! Maybe he'd spread the word!

"Really?" he said in an almost horrified tone. "Well, without birthday parties, what else will you do?"


Ohmigod.


He thinks I am a party machine. I am just a clown with trained poodles to him. I am nothing more than an organ-grinder-monkey-trainer to him. He thinks I ONLY PERFORM BIRTHDAY PARTIES.


"I'm sure will come up with other alternatives," I told him.

"So we have to bring the food down the hill by hand?" he went back to the root of the problem.

"Yes. You do." I was going to offer to help, but not now.

"Arrgh," he said.

Odd phone call.

I had just returned a phone call to a woman who had called me about 2 weeks ago. I've been off (as the Blog readers well know) for that period of time, so I started with an apology of the delay in answering. She did not seemed disturbed by the long wait.

The conversation was just rather odd, so I decided to write about it. It wasn't funny, really, just odd.

First of all, her dog was loudly barking, very close to the phone, the whole time. It was really hard to hear what she was saying...

"Oh, hel...**--arf barf--**...was just wonder...**--ruff ruff--**...aving a planetarium sho...**--arf barf--**...my son had been to the colleg...**--whoof barf--**...and they had sold out so I ...**--bark bark bark bark--**...have any shows like that?"

"WHAT?" I asked, shouting as loud as she had been shouting to try, in vain, to out-volume her dog.

"I was wondering if we...**--arf Arf ARF--**...get a private show in the planetarium?"

"SURE! WE CAN SCHEDULE THAT!" I hoped I had not just agreed to something I could not or would not do. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BRING THAT DOG ARE YOU?" I meant it as a joke.

"OH, sorry, hang ...**--arf rooff--**... on!" She moved the phone away from her face and screamed the dog's name. It sounded like Gomer, or maybe Homer. Possibly Grover. "[dog's name], would you SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"

I swear I heard the dog respond with a **---bowerrowr--** in a tone that was reminiscent of an 11 year old boy saying, "Aw, geez, mom!" Like in a 1950's sitcom.

Then I heard her doorbell ring.

"Can I call you back?" she asked me. "I have to talk to this man at the door. My son was just in a fight."

"OK..." I started to say, but she had already hung up. I held the phone away from my face and stared at it. I don't think I've ever done that before. I thought that just happened in the movies.


That was 5 and a half hours ago. She hasn't called back. I'm really quite glad.