Tagged: kids

Meet The Glove-A-Phone

A Fun, Dirt-Cheap Vuvuzela Alternative

Want to add that buzzy World Cup drone to your special event, but cash is tight, and you can’t afford to drop ten clams on a genuine vuvuzela?  No problem!  Try the Glove-a-Phone!

They say that a moving picture is worth about 30,000 words per second, so check this out:

A boy and his Glove-a-Phone.

Our young maestro does a respectable job, and backed by adult lungs and a few minutes of practice, a Glove-a-Phone will ring out with seven sustained seconds of slightly-mellowed vuvuzela-toot, ripe with strong fog horn undertones and a hint of barking elephant seal.  Honestly, few things in this world sound more hauntingly beautiful.

Before we continue, let me give credit where credit is due.  The Glove-a-Phone concept comes from my son’s school teacher, a Board-Certified-Goofball, who got it from the RAFT, aka the Resource Area For Teaching, a Silicon Valley non-profit that turns donated materials into hands-on educational craft kits.  Check out their excellent Idea Sheets, available online for free!

To make your Glove-a-Phone, you’ll need five ingredients: a powderless latex glove, cardboard tube, three-inch section of plastic straw, rubber band, and short length of scotch tape.  Yes, you can scavenge it all, but do yourself a favor and invest twenty cents on a brand-new glove and clean straw to ensure an utmostly wholesome experience.

The make-or-break component is the tube.  In a pinch, a leftover toilet tissue roll will do, but the thicker the cardboard, the better.  Institutional paper towel cores work perfectly – get clean ones from a school janitor or somewhere like the Depot For Creative Reuse.  You’ll want something robust enough to keep its cylindrical shape under the pressure of excited hands and spittle.

Assembly is a snap!  First, slip the glove an inch-or-so over the end of the tube and secure it, all the way around, with the rubber band.  Next, cut a quarter-inch hole in the end of a finger, insert the straw a bit into the hole, then wrap the straw-glove junction with tape.  Finally, accessorize to taste with some sequins, or to make it World Cup legit, add the letters v-u-v-u-z-e-l-a in Sharpie:

The Glove-a-Phone, Before and After.

The Glove-a-Phone, Before and After.

Confused?  Refer to the RAFT’s handy instructions for clarity.

God willing, you’ve now got a fully-formed Glove-a-Phone in your hands, yearning to be played!  Pull the straw finger back so that the glove stretches tightly over the end of the tube, blow steadily into the straw, and voila!  Bwooomp!  Squeeze the fingers for faster attack, or let them free to buffer your breath.  Pull harder or softer to change the pitch, and soon, you’ll be making music (recommended songs for beginners include Mary Had A Little Lamb and Smoke On The Water).  Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, vuvuzela!

Color Me A Dinosaur

The History Of Crayola Crayons, Charted

First, Pluto got a demotion.  Then, surfing the FM dial, I heard a Styx song on the oldies station.  And just yesterday, park-side, a nanny chided me:  “Star fish?  No, kids call those sea stars nowadays.”  Oh, really?

Denial worked for a while, but honesty’s time had come.  “Okay,” I said to myself, “admit it.  Once, you were a cool dude, but he got eaten by your inner dinosaur.  Now, go roar, or something.”

Lumbering homeward with my sons, doubt swirled about my tiny Stegosaurus brain.  I quite liked my Jurassic bubble of backwardness, but was I raising my brood in it, too?

As we strolled down the sidewalk, we happened upon a stray green crayon.  My kids still doodled with the familiar hues of my youth, but did other children?  Or had they ditched that stupid stuff for a new-and-improved, perceptually-optimized, ISO-12647-2-compliant wax-based coloring system?

Crayons!

Crayons!

Us Stegosauri can’t type, unless we have something pointy attached to our feet.  That evening, thankfully, my boys duct-taped a couple of pencils to my toes, and thus equipped, I hunted-and-pecked across the Internet Dot Com and eventually landed on the web site of Crayola, the undisputed King Of Crayons.

Crayola’s crayon chronology tracks their standard box, from its humble eight color beginnings in 1903 to the present day’s 120-count lineup.  According to Crayola, of the precious crayons of my childhood – the seventy-two colors from the official 1975 set – sixty-one survive.  Today, each is loved to nubs by kids worldwide, just like when I was a sprout.  Woohoo!  Maybe I’m slightly less ancient than a dinosaur – a woolly mammoth, perhaps?

The next day, I gave my buddy Velociraptor a ding-a-ling, and true to form, he yakked his hyperactive yakkage – until I mentioned the crayons.  Five quick claw taps rang out from the phone, then silence, a hiss of “check your email,” and click!  The line went dead.  Good ol’ Velo’s sharp as a tack, but he’s also that way, if you know what I mean.

Three minutes passed, and “bing!”  Oh, a message from velo@cretaceous.org, let’s see… with an image attached, labeled Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010:

Velo's Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010

Velo's Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010

To create the chart, Velo gently scraped Wikipedia’s list of Crayola colors, corrected a few hues, and added the standard 16-count School Crayon box available in 1935. 

Except for the dayglow-ski-jacket-inspired burst of neon magentas at the end of the ’80s, the official color set has remained remarkably faithful to its roots!

Ever industrious, Velo also calculated the average growth rate: 2.56% annually.  For maximum understandability, he reformulated it as “Crayola’s Law,” which states:

The number of colors doubles every 28 years!

If the Law holds true, Crayola’s gonna need a bigger box, because by the year 2050, there’ll be 330 different crayons!  Shortly thereafter, frazzled packaging designers rejoice, for to the rescue comes a revolution in household appliances: the new-fangled Replicator-Dissociator!  Load it with the Crayola plugin, and you’re seconds away from every shade in the rainbow – no boxes required!

At the dinner table in 2100 AD, great-great-grandson John might ask:

Hal, could you use this leftover broccoli to make five crayons, spaced evenly between Pantone 205 and hex f8b3a2, inclusive, please?

To which Hal will reply:

Most certainly, John, I can do that.
Would you like a dinosaur coloring book, too?

See Dick And Jane Streets

Find The Roads With Your First Name

Could you be described as a first grader?  The parent thereof?  A map geek?  A goofball?  Someone who, when visiting the souvenir shop, compulsively searches for their name in the rack of miniature license plates?  If so, read this article!

Once upon a time, I lived in Oakland, California, near a tidy stripe of pavement called John Street.  After the birth of my son John, who took my middle name, we’d occasionally roll by.  I’d holler “Hey, look, it’s John Street!”, and even though he couldn’t read the signs, giggles and chuckles would invariably ensue.John Street

Shortly after our move to Santa Cruz, we found a John Street there, and a few weeks ago, another in San Francisco.  Gosh, roads named John seemed pretty common!  Upon that realization, the geography dork sitting on my shoulder had something to quantify: how many existed, altogether, and where, exactly?

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