Crib Sheet
A weekly roundup of news in parentville, including the good, the bad, and the utterly trivial.
Babies in Bihar, India, must be unusually precocious. Last week, a two-year-old was charged with leading a riot; a few months earlier, a three-month old baby accused of looting a bus. That town needs a visit from the Supernanny.
Elsewhere in India, a 15-year-old boy was too busy performing a Caesarean section to commit crimes. His dad says he's trying to get his kid in the Guinness Book of World Records. For stupidest parental aspirations, I supposed. C-section dad is facing some stiff competition from a couple in New Zealand. They want to name their newborn son 4real. Because after seeing the ultrasound, they were so
struck by the reality of his impending arrival.
The Kiwi name police rejected the request, saving the poor kid from the world's dumbest name. Unfortunately, he'll still have his parents to contend with, who are guaranteed to dream up other ways of humiliating their son.
I'll bet none of these parents are first-borns. A new study shows that number one sons have a higher IQ than kids that come later on. As a first-born myself, I can personally attest to the truth of the findings.
Speaking of smarts, here's a headline from the U.K.:
Nighttime use of baby dummies halves risk of cot death: research
The article itself is much more boring than the headline, but I'll give you the gist of it, because it's good to know. If you're a newbie parent worried about crib death -- which you should be, because it strikes pretty much at random -- get your infant on her back and stick in that binkie (a.k.a. "dummy" in England). Duct tape that sucker on if you have to. It's that important.
Criminals are getting younger every day, and not just in India. A five-year-old in Buffalo, NY, brought smiley-face-stamped packets of heroin to his daycare and distributed them to his friends, telling them it was candy. His parents defended their little pusher, saying, "At least he knows how to share."
What do heroin and video games have in common? If a group of doctors get their way, a common psychiatric disorder. There's a movement afloat to officialize video game addiction. Symptoms include playing a lotta lotta lotta video games.
Speaking of video games, don't expect Manhunt 2 to show up on Wal-Mart's shelves alongside the rest of the teenage time wasters. After the ultra-violent game was banned in the U.K. and Ireland, and got an adults-only rating in the U.S., manufacturer Take-Two said it would delay the launch of the game while it sat and sulked. In banning it, Irish censors says the game about a psychotic killer on a revenge spree is characterized by
gross, unrelenting and gratuitous violence.
Au contraire, says Take Two's chairman. He says the game is
a work of art.
















As the second child of the family of the author of this blog, I take exception to the implication that all second borns are likely to, as I am, be outsmarted by their older siblings.
The article itself is much less conclusive that the author appears to make it, or would like to think it is. The so-called scientists surmised that the reason for the gap in IQ scores may lie in the relative deprivation of the second child, something I have experience first-hand: "Various researchers have suggested that older siblings might benefit from a larger share of family resources, the process of tutoring their younger brothers and sisters, or from expectations placed on their social rank."
I would also like to add that my sister did not necessarily suffer from the "older child" syndrome of having to take care of or tutor her younger sibling. I was quite self-sufficient, thank you. Maybe she became more clever through her efforts to find ever more effective ways to torture me.
Finally, I should point out that this study was performed on only male Norwegians, and "It is unclear ... if it can be found outside this population of young Norwegian men."
I will hold onto a sliver of hope for my fellow non-male, Norwegian second-borns that they won't always have to suffer my fate.
Unusually articulate for a second-born.