Light saber two arrived today. Nothing warms the heart of a feminist mother like seeing her two sons duke it out with large plastic weapons. It’s especially becoming on a three year old who is shorter than the phallus itself. Of course his older brother recognized talent in the blood. “Eli I wish to train you in the jedi arts……” The little Jedi punctuated their training duel with a rousing chorus of “Go down light sava way down in Egypt land tell old phawo wet my people go…..”

Meanwhile Rebecca’s piano teacher had the very sweet idea that she and I should play a duet at her recital. La princepesa tends in our “rehearsals” to channel a cross between the yelling Cuban piano teacher I had as a child and the scowling Israeli viola teacher I had in College—both of whom specialized in thug pedagogy. Imperious does not begin to describe the tone of ,” MOMMY ONE TWO THREE FOUR”

Jedi 1 and 2 and their commanding sister seemed to be smoothly in bed by 8 allowing me to work on my talk for Friday. The talk goes down on record for me as the first academic gig I’ve negotiated by Facebook chat. I was so happily thinking about Kircher’s pictures of echoes and trying to figure out what Thomas Jefferson was doing in a pleasure garden in London that I didn’t notice Rebecca sneak by my little study nook. Luckily super Dad was on the ball and after finding her empty bed located her in our bathtub with a pile of cotton balls, Q-tips, a pad, crayons, lipstick, and a silk scarf. She claimed she was doing NOTHING DADDY. Back to Kircher, Thomas Jefferson and The Castrato.