For those of you keeping track, it's the fourth ever Talk Like a Pirate Day. And that can mean only one thing: it's also the fourth anniversary of an even more important event, the birth of Zebula. My daughter is now four years old, if you can believe it. She started kindergarten last week. She also started a cute little gymnastics class. She likes to dress up like a fairy-princess-ballerina. In fact, she was quite adamant about the latter this morning. I kept trying to explain that it was Talk Like a Pirate Day, but she insisted that she was going to be a ballerina. Exercise for everyone at home: talk like a ballerina pirate.

Last week at the playground, I was explaining to Zebula that she really could no longer say she was "three" or "three-and-a-half". I suggested that she start referring to herself as "four-minus-epsilon" (all the math geeks should get that reference). Apparently, someone overheard me, because she later described the episode to Le Chapeau, and they eventually figured out that they were talking about me. Apparently, she told him how embarrassed she would be to live in such a geeky family. I'm sure Matt stood up for me, but I guess the only response I can offer is "Ni! Ni! Niiii!". You got the joke, smartypants. By the way, I can't think of this episode now without Nomi from A Complicated Kindness saying "Let's not be the kind of family that uses phrases like, 'four minus epsilon'". We've been listening to the CBC recording of the book over the past couple of days.

Happy birthday Zebula!

I should mark the fact that Nath, Zebula, Vorlon and I all picked up and spent a week in Seattle. We've been back for two weeks now, and I have a few moments to record the event for posterity.

We're definitely not the first to undertake a family vacation with little kids, but I'm here to tell you that it really does require monumental effort. This was evident right from the start: the airport shuttle picked us up at 4:30 for our 8:30 flight. And with all the long lines and extra security, we made it to the gate with ten minutes to spare before boarding. Nevertheless, the kids were highly cooperative at the airports and in the air. This was aided by the fact that the airplanes were new Embrauer 190s, with personal video systems in every seat. Zebula watched the same kid's program over and over again, on the way there and on the way back.

Eric and Leah were kind enough to let us stay with them, for which we are very grateful (perhaps they didn't know what they were getting into). Their home is definitely not toddler-proof (I mean, why would it be?) -- we couldn't take our eyes off the kids. I kept thinking of Mad-Eye Moody screaming "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!".

From that home base, we had a great week seeing old sights, visiting with huge piles of old friends, and eating at some of our favourite Seattle restaurants. We went from the airport straight to Gordito's for lunch! I even managed to have a sandwich at Ugly Mug and Mongolian Chicken at Mandarin Chef, both of which put me in a nostalgic mood for lunches with Doug. I took the kids to the Ballard Locks. We played at Golden Gardens and Gasworks, and visited the Pike Market. We went to Seattle Centre, where there International Fountain filled both of my children with shrieking holy terror. Nath rode the roller coaster and Zebula loved the carousel.

And of course, we had a great time at Chris and Corey's wedding in Seabeck, on the peninsula. It was a beautiful, scenic outdoor location, and the ceremony was simple and touching. I read a letter honouring the happy couple, written by Shelly, who visited with Jeff back in July on their sabbatical.

A fun time was had by all, and I'm sure Zebula will recall seemingly insignificant moments from our trip in unexpected contexts eight months from now. And now it's back to the grind, to the extent that I can call a six-month sabbatical a "grind". Let me at least say that September will be especially busy, with a talk, a grant application, and some paper writing getting in the way of uninterrupted deep thought.

Via The Whatever, I feel obliged to pass on this wonderful page of No Sympathy Lines. The professor who created this page compiled an excellent list of the sort of sob story lines you typically hear from students at the end of the term, along with the sober, cold doses of reality that counteract them. I think I'll study these and have them at the ready in the future.

I hope I'm not a total jerk for liking these responses so much. I mean, we all have to harden our hearts a little bit at the end of every term. Yes, students do badly who maybe could have done better under different circumstances. On the other hand, many students get precisely the low marks they deserve. Students even fail courses. And no matter how much tuition you pay, you're not entitled to a good grade. I've had students who are simply baffled by the fact that they failed my course. One student complained that she had already booked her ticket to return to her home in Asia, that she was finished school. Uh, no, you're not. Another student, upon learning that he had failed, emailed me to ask if I could scrape some extra marks out of his final exam. I couldn't. He came in to review the exam with me, and we found that even with maximal leniency, he still wasn't going to pass. Not satisfied, he filed a petition with the Dean's office. I'm not sure what he expected them to do. I mean, there was no foul play or bias -- he simply failed. And if anything, I would expect them to be even less sympathetic than I was.

That being said, I have adjusted marks in the past. I've even given out exotic grades like Aegrotat when the student deserved it. But like Scalzi says, it would be great to hand out the list of No Sympathy Lines at the beginning of the course. Just, you know, to keep the enrolment down a bit and put a muzzle on the Entitlement Crowd.