Da-da's Easy 5-Step (Meditation) Sleep Method for Kids

Few realize it, but Da-da is the Sleep Master. Try this and you'll see why.

Triumph of A Man Called Da-da was at first supposed to be a parenting humor blog, but has since morphed into the metaphysical and anomalistic -- which is unavoidable when it comes to dealing with children and most government officials. In this light, here is a foolproof method of putting any child (or select adult) asleep with very little effort.

Da-da's Easy 5-Step Sleep-Method for Kids

After they've brushed their teeth and are in bed and ready for sleep, tell the child that you're going to teach them how to MEDITATE. When you speak, do so in a slow and calm, soothing voice. [Notes are in brackets.]

Step 1. Once the child is in bed, turn off the lights and tell them to get comfortable and close their eyes. Tell them to take a few deep breaths and relax.

Step 2. Tell them: "Now I want you to create a 'grounding cord' from the base of your spine [which you might have to describe] to the center of the earth. It's just a cord plugging you into the ground."

Step 3. Tell them: "Now imagine a big ball of white light all around you. [This is for their protection, but don't tell them that.] Wherever you go, this ball of light goes with you, all around you. Think of allowing only those with your greatest good inside your light bubble. Only those with your greatest good are allowed inside."

Step 4. "Now imagine a tiny, glowing white pine cone in the center of your head. [This is their pineal gland, a gateway of sorts.] Imagine a glowing cord going from that tiny pine cone to The Source, which is a big ball of very friendly light. You can't miss it."

Step 5. Tell them: "Now float... and imagine your true self, who you really are. Do this silently for five minutes." If they ask any questions, tell them to look around with their "spirit eyes" and find out. Check the time. Do not make a sound.

Five minutes later, your child is sound asleep. If your child isn't asleep, you either have a Yogi Master on your hands, or you need to add some calming layers to their bedtime routines (as well as avoiding all chocolate and sugar and ALL SCREENS two hours before bed; FYI, screens produce the same chemical in the brain that meth addicts enjoy). For the record, Da-da's oldest is classic ADHD, and he typically goes to sleep in five minutes with this technique, though Da-da sometimes has to do it twice.

When your kids are teens, have them try this meditation technique WHEN THEY'RE AWAKE, and concentrate on any number of meditation topics. Tends to calm them down. Grounding alone is worth the price of admission. This sleep technique also tends to eliminate bad dreams.

Better still, it works for adults. After you're comfortable with this meditation method and can get into it rather quickly, try asking for a spirit guide -- but be sure you set protection, as in Step 3. 

If you have a baby you're trying to get to sleep, try Da-da's Baby Pendula, but please be careful.


--
(Meditation Note: While Da-da is suggesting kids lie down for the above, one would normally sit to meditate. Indeed, one can meditate anywhere. You can even meditate while walking or hiking or even riding in an elevator. While Da-da used to meditate every time his old boss used to talk to him, he typically meditates sitting/"zazen" in a rocking chair. Note that zazen doesn't mean sitting cross-legged the way you see monks and yogis meditating: "The aim of zazen is just sitting, that is, suspending all judgmental thinking and letting words, ideas, images and thoughts pass by without getting involved in them." -wikipedia, 'zazen')

Da-da's Top 11 (Mostly Legal) Tools to Help You Stay Calm With Your Difficult Child

What are the real keys to avoiding constant fights with your child? Believe it or not, it's the stuff you see below. When your child is upset, anxious or angry, keeping the following 11 things handy will save you and your child, and will invariably guarantee the release of countless doves and bunnies.
So, next time you're faced with an impossible child and your own cranial Chernobyl, try one of these
11 helpful parenting tips.

11. A Cautionary Tale

The right story can diffuse many a bad situation... and of course, warm those cockles.

10. A Hug

Never underestimate the power of a group hug.

 
9. Crocodiles

Never underestimate the power of a crocodile in a book case.

 8. A Dancing Chicken

The Greatest Thing a Father Can Do For His Kids...

...is not launch them into the sun.

Fear and Loathing on the Parenthood Express: A Back to School Special

Sums up Life -- and parenting -- nicely.

Da-da's said, on several occasions, that parenting exists somewhere between Christmas and being roasted alive. Nowhere is this brought into sharper relief than when one reads educational material, brochures and ad copy meant for parents. At a recent school open house/orientation, the literature they handed out instantly set Da-da's feet to the fire with rubrics like...

"Preparing Them For Success and Happiness"

...and...

"College Prep Begins in Kindergarten"

...and Da-da's favorite...

"Don't Let Your Child Be Left Behind."

Ah, fear. Parenting and fear. Da-da had no fear until he had children... so, it must've been in there all along? But, "preparing them for success and happiness"? At best, the above words in red are a myopic inaccuracy; at worst, a manipulative lie, designed to sell you a high-priced education via FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt). Da-da can't send his kids to insanely priced private schools, but he can give them a leg up by being there for them, and teaching them everything he knows... which isn't much, admittedly, but might make them more fun at parties. Or standing in the eye of the hurricane.

Da-da doesn't know about you, but besides preparing his kids for, "SUCCESS," he's also preparing them for those times when they're NOT successful, or happy. Because, like Dr. Suess says, it will happen quite a lot.

A neverending stream of extreme happiness and success is untenable... and maybe even a bit boring. But how would Da-da know, right? It's trite, but Life is an amazing, horrible, thrilling, tedious, boring-as-hell roller coaster that may very well fail while you're riding it. Let's go with that a moment.

Roller coasters aren't all about thrills. You usually have to first drive a ways to get to one, pay a price to get near it, drink $6 sodas and eat $12 hot dogs, then stand in line a looooong time, exercising those boredom and patience and auto-entertaining muscles. When you're finally there, strapping yourself into the seat requires a bit of courage -- and precision, so you don't fall out. Enduring those various flavors and odors of humanity around you works your forgiveness mojo. The ride itself invokes fear -- one of the two human common denominators -- as well as thrills, centripetal and centripedal forces, getting barfed on, etc. Then there's the end of the ride, the inevitable part where the cars slow and prepare to disgorge you back into the unwashed masses, a little queasy and dizzy. Up and down, round and round... and back to square one: welcome to Life! If you can prepare kids for this, you're doing well.

Thus, Da-da encourages both unstructured play vs. structured play, as one teaches reinforces creativity, the other patience and, "the social game." Might as well call it what it is. Da-da's children won't be deliriously happy, or hideously successful. Da-da hates extremes. "Happy" is such a lame, vague, overused word. Da-da hopes his children will be content. Content, patient and resilient... with a bit of non sequitur.

O the places you're gonna hurl.

Try to Pay Attention...

                                                                                                                                                                                      [via TIH]

...to situations where kids should be smiling, but aren't. Otherwise...

...kids can be scarred for life...
 



...and end up like their parents...

...or worse.

Da-da Helps You Enter THE CRUCIBLE OF HORROR... er, PARENTHOOD

Not gonna find Enlightenment there, kid.

So. It's Monday. You're staring at your 3-D iPhone/Android/computerish device all the time, bored out of your mind, commuting without looking at anything but that little screen, "communicating" in a rather uncommunicative way, working without working, eating at trendy places, traveling the world without looking at it, wondering who you are, waiting for something to happen, feeling disconnected because there's no cultural lingua franca to pull everyone you know together save for that small screen YouTube fascination du jour. Then... for whatever reason... you start secretly wishing for a time machine to take you away from all this. IS THERE ONE?, you wonder. Well, Da-da is here to tell you that there IS.

It's called: PARENTHOOD. Yes, IT'S TIME TO HAVE KIDS! Imagine how fulfilled you'll be. You step into The Crucible of Parenthood and all that other stuff gets burned away. You won't look at your phone for months! Trendy restaurants will become dim memories that probably happened to someone else. And, "commuting"? Commuting will actually become something YOU RECALL FONDLY.

Then, before you know it, five years will have gone by, and the entire world will be so different that you won't realize where to jump back in -- and chances are you won't, 'cause it'll look so weird and alien, the new players such advanced aliens that you'll stand on the sidelines and watch the game flow past and wonder why you ever played in the first place. That's because you have a new game to play, an ULTIMATE GAME. Why is it the ULTIMATE GAME? It's the ULTIMATE GAME because YOU CAN NEVER WIN! You can only tie. You'll still be just as bored, but you'll spend your time trying to talk other people into... PARENTHOOD! It's the vicious circle that keeps on giving the whole year 'round.

BOO.

So, why is Da-da being so scary? BECAUSE IT'S ONLY 31 DAYS TILL HALLOWEEN. And everyone deserves a really good scare this month -- and parenthood is one of those scares that just gets scarier every time you turn your back on it. So, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!?

Leap Day Rules: Refuting Crappy Yoda Advice

Hey! That's not what Da-da's talking about! Paws off the boob, babyface.
(Oh, and nice circuit board, babe.)

The Pirahna... er, Banana Brothers, Bronko and Nagurski, were watching, "Empire Strikes Back," the other night (for the... fifth time). Halfway through, Yoda starts Yoda-ing about something Da-da's been noodling for years -- specifically, the scene where Yoda says, "No. Try not. DO... or do not. There is no TRY." Da-da stopped the movie at this point to directly refute the alleged sage advice.

Like the song says, "Ya Gotta Try." Doing is fine, but some things you're not gonna do right away. You've got to TRY, first. Sure, one person in a thousand will get it right the first time, but the rest of us gotta try and try and try and try until you get it right and can DO without fail. The DO thing is horrible advice, especially for kids. Don't you kids realize how many times Da-da had to TRY before he could get on an escalator without falling down? It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

So... TRY. That's all Da-da asks. That's all anyone can ask. TRY. Sure, you're gonna fall on your face a lot, but it's the first step toward DO. Oh, and Yoda... shut up. Use the Force on THIS, lizard breath. And if you don't like this one, THERE IS ANOTHER.

A little help.

What's Da-da's Job, Anyway?

What? It works, ok?

Some young pup of 19 wrote in and asked what Da-da's "job" as Mr. Mom entailed, snottily suggesting that Da-da was a disorganized weenie (is it that obvious?), and that being a parent was "probably quite easy and natural" -- he used the word 'probably' because he admittedly didn't have children. 

Well. First, Da-da's gonna steer you to THE DA-DA TRENCH TEST (or COMBAT DA-DA), to give you an idea of what you're really in for. What you say is partially true: parenting should indeed be easy and natural, provided you have some idealized dream children that will eventually walk on water and be sacrificed by an unfeeling bureaucracy. The reality is that you'll be blessed with crazed wombat children (esp. after your snide comments). So, read TRENCH TEST ten times, stay up all night reading it, then read it again while carrying two screaming kicking biting 40 lb. wombats up and down stairs 17 times/day. Then plan and make 17 meals a day, clean up after 17 meals a day, change 17 diapers a day times two (Da-da's actually past this, thank GOD), clean out the diaper pail twice a day, stay up all night again, make another 17 meals, clean up barf, clean up barf again, get the wombats dressed, do laundry 17 times, find that favorite toy or stuffed animal that's MISSING AGAIN, coerce elementary school POWs to do daily homework that's clearly against the Geneva Convention, drive POWs from gulag to gulag, make small talk with camp guards and other wombat attendants, determine blame and punishment with an eye toward justice 24/7 (not REAL justice, parental justice), referee endless knock-down drag-out fights and Hulkamania wrestling matches, try and maintain an acceptable level of safety, failing that become a master of triage, clean and bandage 17 wounds, clean and bandage them again at night, bathe mental patients who are dead-set on killing either themselves or their brother in the bathtub, stay up all night again, teach inmates to read and write and speak and do math and science and art and how to do everything on earth without getting killed or becoming a target of rock throwing or lynch mobs, help mental patient wombats how to filter and understand a riot of emotions threatening to blow out their upper layers of red hot atmosphere, mow lawns, trim bushes and trees, rake leaves, kill bugs, weatherize structures, fix plumbing, unclog thousands of toilets, take out trash, become a Santa-like expert in toy maintenance and repair, wash cars, maintain cars, maintain bicycles, maintain scooters and skateboards, manage dry cleaning, change and wash bed linens, coerce mental patients into brushing teeth and wiping butts (theirs, preferably), clean clean clean, teach crazed wombats how to be self-sufficient and responsible, put mental patient wombats to sleep again and again and again and again and again and have them wake you up so you can put them to bed again and again and again and again and again, step on sharp toys in the middle of the night without waking anyone up, fix the toys you stepped on (or throw them away), buy kid clothing repeatedly as it only seems to fit for about three weeks, get sick yourself but do all of the above anyway, go to the doctor and smile and nod when they you need to get some rest and exercise. (And yes, Da-da left out a buncha stuff that doesn't need to be mentioned, but parents know of what Da-da speaks.)

While all this is going on, you'll invariably worry. WORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING. You think you won'.t, but you will. You can't help it. Are your mental patients happy? you'll wonder. Are they eating? Are they eating the right things? The wrong things? Are they eating the toys you can't find? And speaking of that, will your mental patients STAY mental patients? Is your youngest's meanness to the cat indicative of a deep-seated mental illness that will one day sprout wings and take out a major metro? Are your kids safe? Are your kids morons? Is it your fault your kids are morons? Are you a moron for having kids in the first place? (Sorry, that's rhetorical.) Does the car really need new tires to the tune of $940? Are you really saying the same words over and over again to no effect? Do your children understand any known language? And is that loud mean voice coming from your mouth being channeled from your own parents 30 years hence through some bizarre parenting wormhole? That can't be you, right? And are you getting fat? Is that really your face? Can you really live on french fries and chicken nuggets? What are these nugget things made of anyway? And why DID your hair go white overnight? Was it their screaming? Your screaming? The endless tantrums? Is that buzzing in your ears hearing damage from too much kid-howling OR ARE YOU JUST GOING CRAZY?

Now. Experience this every day and every night. 24/7/365. For years and years. Without sleep. Or a shower. Then perhaps you might understand that peculiar thousand yard stare you see on the faces of those strangely silent, unkempt and stinky BLANK-EYED people you carefully steer clear of and joke about at the store. Yes. They are PARENTS. And they are stark raving mad. The good news is that YOU will be the next victim. It's why the crazies are always trying to talk other people into having kids, so they can say, "SEE? TOLD YOU."

Children, like cats, are scale models of Chaos Theory in Action. Chaos always triumphs over order; organization works only so far. Sure, you need be organized, otherwise you're goin' down, but you have to accept the fact that your organization will be constantly imperfect, fraying and unraveling, just like Da-da's tenuous sanity. So, flexibility and a goodly sense of humor are more than important: they're all that separates you from the abyss. There is a bright side. You might get a hug once in a while. And then you'll eventually die. (Not from the hug.) Why? Because you need your rest. After you write about it all, o'course.

Shh. Da-da's sleeping.

The Curse... Nay, the HORROR of Mommy Brain

No... MOMMY brain, not mummy brain. Jeez. Who's in charge here?

For those not yet 30, and who eventually want kids, a word of advice: don't wait to have them. Da-da doesn't care what your mother says. Have them while you're still young and energetic (just not before you're 29, please). If you wait like everyone else, "till you're ready," like Da-da did (ready at 95?), then you don't exactly bounce back from the endless marathon obstacle course. Indeed, you don't bounce back much from ANYTHING. You just start moving slower and slower, getting closer and closer to the ground until you're a permanent resident.

Interestingly, scientists recently discovered that people who multitask in the extreme (like parents) begin to lose their will -- which explains Da-da and parenthood and the electorate perfectly. You find yourself not bathing for a week (oh, well). You notice that you're eating cold chicken tenders and tator tots again (ok). Someone has thrown something that's either marred the wall or stuck in it or attached itself to your head (interesting). One child starts wrestling with another and then they're hitting and using knives and shuriken and mad monkey kung fu and flying respective B-52s to their failsafe points (huh, you kids). You find that you're not sleeping much and going to bed later and waking up earlier and making kid meal after kid meal after kid meal often eating the cold leftovers while driving small beings here and there and filling out forms and making small talk about kids and forms and cold meals and no sleep and the weather and shopping for more food and washing things you can't remember getting dirty and finding the cat taped to the wall and then there's a big white BIGFOOT in the front yard tap dancing and singing, "Silver and Gold," and you think, that's nice.

THIS is Mommy Brain. Da-da's so-oo ready for it to be done... though he suspects it's a permanent condition.

Fresh from the cranium, it's Mommy Brain! Now in cheery radioactive green.

Evolution in Action

After dropping the monkeys off for primate reconditioning and repatterning (read SUMMER SCHOOL), Da-da was running errands. He was waiting to cross a busy street when he noticed a tuned-out, slack-jawed tween with requisite iPod earbuds plugging his ears, obviously listing to the latest from Ten Miles of Bad Road (or perhaps Screaming Naked Lizard Under Glass), totally oblivious to his surroundings. The light changed -- that is, for the other direction -- but the kid wasn't paying attention and couldn't hear anything, so HE STEPPED OFF THE CURB IN FRONT OF AN ONCOMING BUS.  Not just any bus. It was one of those monster accordion buses that takes several years to stop even when the driver's paying attention. Sure, it was only going about 35 mph, but at any speed, a 50,000 lb. bus goes over an 80 lb. kid with nothing left over. Do the math, Dracula.

Rather than spend hours talking to the police about what happened, Da-da reached out very quickly (Da-da has what we in the British Navy call, FAST HANDS) and yanked the kid back to the curb just before the bus turned him into so much raspberry jam. The bus rocketed past, the rush of air from so much mass quite impressive. The dumb kid just blinked at Da-da, still not registering... you know, THE NATURAL WORLD. Da-da yanked the earbuds out of the kid's ears and yelled, slowly, and for effect:

"USE YOUR SENSE ORGANS AND LIVE." 

Words to live by. Know it, learn it, live it. Jangled and factoring an impossible quadratric, the kid wandered off to his next accident, while Da-da went and bought plastic tikis and leis. Da-da's just that way. It's Evolution in Action.

"AH, OOO, AH, TIKI TIKI..."

The House of NO

Da-da has built and lives in the unapologetic House of NO. NO, you can't watch any more TV today, one hour is enough. NO, you can't play video games, they rot your attention span and serve no purpose. NO, you can't run around naked outside (not till college). NO, you can't bite your brother's neck, Da-da doesn't want to clean up the blood... NO! And YES, Da-da has reasons for all these negations. He will explain them in detail, if you'd like, with chalkboard illustrations, sources and character witnesses, if necessary. And YES, your feelings are noted, as always.

However, as Da-da says many times every month, he is not here to be liked. He's not your friend, he's your FATHER and zoo keeper. He's here to do his duty, to wear the Arbiter's Sweatpants of Safety, Common Sense (which is certainly not common anymore), Goodness, Fair Play, and a lot of other Capitalized Words that are increasingly archaic no matter how terrible the cost is to Da-da himself. Otherwise, he would be a poor candidate for Da-da, and hence, no use to small beings everywhere, so there. 

Ok, which one of you detonated the atomic bomb in the living room again?

Another Public Service Announcement

Always good advice for Mr. Moms and other males who have fulfilled their biological imperative, and are currently sitting at the back of the bus. (Hey, you done with the sports section?)

Da-da 101: SLEEP and The Baby Pendula

Since Da-da's supposed to be a jaded combat Da-da veteran source of parenting wisdom here, he decided to showcase one of his Top Ten Most Helpful Baby-containment Secrets. Da-da probably had a couple thousand of these ideas/skills at one time, but being Mr. Mom has taken its toll. Frankly, at this point, Da-da can't remember a damn thing, let alone his own name, hence the fact that he continues to refer to himself as, "Da-da."

Da-da was reminded of this sad fact when he recently went to Ace Hardware to get a new log carrier (for, you know, logs). He took the thing out of the box and suddenly recalled all the awe and mystery of being the parent of an infant who desperately needed to GO TO SLEEP. Like, right now. And O God, the screaming, the crying, the green projectile vomit, the shouting priests... Da-da feels dead-tired just thinking about it.

After this washed over Da-da, he thought, "Hey! Da-da's memory is coming back!" (Like Antarctica SLOOOWLY melting.) And then: "No. Da-da can't tell them THAT [the thing he remembered]. Someone might be stupid with it."

Ok, Da-da WILL tell you the secret, but don't be stupid with it. And if you're going to do this, READ EVERYTHING FIRST. THEN READ IT AGAIN. Da-da won't be responsible for you being stupid.

THE most important thing about being a parent of an infant is getting that kid to SLEEP. Kids grow when they sleep, and growth obviates lots of obstacles... and invokes others. Indeed, things like feeding and safety and avoiding zombies are also important, but we want you SANE and reasonably un-zombie-like, and to be a SANE un-zombie-like parent, you need sleep -- and you're not gonna get sleep if your child isn't getting any sleep.

Out of desperation, Da-da invented this thing, which he calls, "The Baby Pendula." Works better than anything else he tried, including those $400 auto-swing things. Why? Because the baby is STARING at you the whole time, wondering what the hell you're doing. Then... by the time the baby's figured it out... BAM: Snooze City.

Before we begin, Da-da will tell you again: don't be stupid with The Baby Pendula. But, if you're going to construct this thing (it's incredibly easy), READ EVERYTHING HERE FIRST. THEN READ IT AGAIN. Da-da will not be responsible for you being stupid. Ok, here we go.

Get a sturdy log carrier from the hardware store. Get one that's nylon (or leather) and strong. Make sure it doesn't have any defects. You'll also need an UBER-soft baby blankie -- but not too plush, as you don't want to asphyxiate your child.

Place the folded blankie over the edges. NOTE: don't pull up the folded ends of the log carrier and tuck the blankie in. I know it seems like you want the baby tucked in there like a log, but doing this might tempt you to swing a little harder, which is something you don't want to do. Here's one Da-da prepared earlier.

Lay the Baby Pendula on the floor, or bed, or somesuch safe soft low surface, and lay the swaddled baby on it -- LONGWAYS, MAURICE -- and MAKE SURE THE BABY HAS BEEN BURRITOED, swaddled, made nicely immobile. You want the baby unable to escape. (Don't laugh maniacally at your parental power and control, because it won't last, and it'll also wake up the baby.) You can indeed use the Baby Pendula with an older unswaddled baby, but be careful that they don't escape or wriggle out. If they're too big, then this won't work (as you'll see), so don't try.

You want the baby centered on the blankie. You might need to scootch the baby a little this way or that to achieve balanced baby equilibrium. While you do this, the baby's gonna be watching you, thinking, "WHAT is this crazy unshaven bastard doing?" Remember: baby's are SMART. Like ma-ma, they're much smarter than you think. Much smarter than YOU (which isn't hard to do if you're Da-da).

Note: NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON A BABY. That's just what they want you to do.

Anyway, gently tuck the centered, swaddled, drowsy, well-fed, and burped baby between the two sides of the log carrier, and pick up the handles to form a soft baby taco, thus:

Do this over carpet or pillows/blankets/cushions, not over a hardwood floor.

Stand with your feet fairly far apart and swing the baby veeery gently, back and forth, head-first, with both hands in the handles, handles together. You can swing on one side or between your legs, whatever's most comfortable.

NOTE 1: Don't do this over a hardwood floor like Da-da is doing. Do it over carpet or some blankets/pillows, etc. Plan for the baby suddenly escaping/falling out.

Swing like this [see below video], while making that womb-whooshing, "SH-WSH-WSH-WSH-WSH-WSH..." sound. This GENTLE rocking motion and noise will simulate the baby rocking GENTLY inside the womb as ma-ma was walking around thinking how wonderful her life was going to be, pre-birth. Again, be sure to rock the baby over something soft in the off-chance that your child is like a baby Jackie Chan. And again, BE CAREFUL. Da-da would have made and marketed this thing himself, but you just know some drunken, speed-freak bonehead is gonna swing his kid into a vending machine at a bus station and then sue, SUE LIKE THE WIND. No, thanks.

NOTE 2: if the baby's agitated and thrashing around, don't use this thing.

You want a subservient/drowsy/well-fed/swaddled baby as your subject, not a pissed-off radioactive one with laser vision. Also, if the baby isn't asleep after say 30 minutes, you might want to wait a little while before trying again. Jeez, holding the baby swaddled and rocking back and forth, badly singing old Beatles tunes isn't a bad route. Just remember to be BORING. Babies stay awake for DAYS if you're interesting.  

NOTE 3: The BabyPendula does NOT work with older children, like young 900 lb. Bronko here. It's only for babies. Once they become as big as a B-movie frozen turkey, you're just asking for some long-term back injury. And the National Guard.

NOTE 4: Some babies don't like this thing. They don't like unicorns, either. Da-da has no idea why. You'll KNOW if your baby doesn't like it. Babies are good at letting you know. No, really.

NOTE 5: DON'T MAKE THIS THING AND BE STUPID WITH IT! Now that you know about the Baby Pendula... and since Common Sense isn't Common, anymore... Da-da will now state AGAIN that you take all responsibility if you decide to make one of these. Swing your child as if /she were made of the finest, thinnest crystal CONTAINING STRANGELET-NITROGLYCERINE that, at the tiniest BUMP, will explode and rip open the space-time continnuum so badly that giant spiders and huge screaming mother-in-law EYES will stream out of the rift and consume every living thing on the earth until it's a barren fog-enshrouded parking lot full of attorneys. Brrr. Yeah. So there. Be careful, you apes. Watch the video and BE GENTLE, Dracula.