The Rosie Effect
Page 52
2. Equipment acquisition, including environment preparation. The baby would require protection from sharp objects, poisonous substances, alcohol fumes and band practice.
3. Acquisition of expertise in obstetric observations and procedures. The Book was insistent on the importance of regular medical appointments. Rosie was disorganised in this area and over-reliant on her own medical expertise. Also, there was the possibility of some sort of emergency.
4. A non-intrusive approach to the nutrition problem. I did not trust Rosie to maintain a diet within the guidelines. Her ordering of the meatlovers’ pizza suggested that factors other than rational analysis were influencing her choices.
The final item was the easiest. Rosie had implicitly agreed to the list of banned substances. I would make the conservative assumption that food purchased by Rosie outside the apartment had zero nutritional value and design our meals to include all the prescribed nutrients in appropriate proportions.
I would vary the detail of the Standardised Meal System (Pregnancy Version) by choosing different fish varieties and green vegetables, thus hiding its underlying structure from Rosie. It would be simpler now that she was a meat eater. She had also entered the second trimester of the pregnancy, where the risk of damage to Bud by toxins that she might ingest from her unsupervised meals had lessened. The hard work had been done, at some cost to our relationship, but I could now relax a little.
Things were looking much more positive.
Rosie was back at university for the fall semester. She had a tutorial on the Saturday morning and told me that, having made the journey to Columbia, she would spend the remainder of the day there.
I began my solo day by drawing a one-to-one scale, apple-sized Bud on Tile 15. The Book noted that Bud’s ears had migrated from his neck to his head, and his eyes to the middle. It would have been fascinating to discuss with Rosie, but she was not present. And I had not forgotten her admonition about providing technical commentary.
The obvious starting point for the equipment-acquisition project was a pram: all babies require prams, and I considered myself better qualified than Rosie to select mechanical items. My bicycle represented the result of a three-month evaluation process, culminating in the selection of the appropriate base model plus a list of modifications. I expected the experience to be largely transferable.
At the end of a fulfilling day, interrupted only by food purchasing, lunch and essential bodily functions, my internet-based investigation had produced a set of requirements for the ideal pram and a shortlist of available models, none perfect, but all potentially viable after some modification. I had a satisfying sense of making progress, but decided not to share this with Rosie. It could be another surprise.
There was a second item of equipment which was more critical, at least in terms of the lead time required for thinking and implementation. Rosie had identified the problem of noise from upstairs. However, I had not informed her of the exact agreement with George, which allowed for unlimited music practice at all hours.
The Skype call came through on schedule at 7.00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time; 9.00 a.m. Sunday, Australian Eastern Standard Time.
‘How’s the weather there, Donald?’ said my mother.
‘Minimal change from last week. Still summer. The weather is normal for late August.’
‘What’s that in the background? Are you in the toilet? You can call back when you’re finished.’
‘This is my office. It’s very private.’ Rosie was home and I did not want her listening while I worked on the second surprise.
‘I should hope so. How was your week?’
‘Fine.’
‘You’re well?’
‘Fine.’
‘And Rosie?’
‘Fine.’
If we were using only text messages, I could have replaced myself with a simple computer application. The Fine application. Possibly it would be better than I was at interspersing the occasional ‘good’ and ‘very well’. But this evening/morning, a variation was required.
‘I need to speak to Dad.’
‘You want to speak to your father?’ The speech quality was excellent—fine—but my mother no doubt wanted to confirm the unusual request. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course. I have a technical problem.’
‘I’ll get him.’ Rather than getting him, my mother shouted, ‘Jim! It’s Donald. He has a problem.’
My father does not waste time with formalities.
‘What’s the problem, Don?’
‘I require a soundproof crib.’ Although earplugs provided a simple solution, it had occurred to me that insulating a baby from sound might affect its development in a negative way.
‘Interesting. I suppose breathing is the problem.’
‘Correct. Communication is solvable electronically—’
‘No need to tell me things we both know. But I’m struggling to imagine a soundproof material that air can pass through.’
‘I’ve done some research. There is a project in Korea—’
‘You mean South Korea.’
‘Correct. They’ve developed a material impermeable to sound but permeable to air.’
‘I presume it’s on the internet. Send your mother a link. You’ve given me enough to work on for now. I’ll get your mother back. Adele!’
My mother’s face appeared in front of my father’s. ‘What was that about?’
‘Don wants some help designing a crib.’
3. Acquisition of expertise in obstetric observations and procedures. The Book was insistent on the importance of regular medical appointments. Rosie was disorganised in this area and over-reliant on her own medical expertise. Also, there was the possibility of some sort of emergency.
4. A non-intrusive approach to the nutrition problem. I did not trust Rosie to maintain a diet within the guidelines. Her ordering of the meatlovers’ pizza suggested that factors other than rational analysis were influencing her choices.
The final item was the easiest. Rosie had implicitly agreed to the list of banned substances. I would make the conservative assumption that food purchased by Rosie outside the apartment had zero nutritional value and design our meals to include all the prescribed nutrients in appropriate proportions.
I would vary the detail of the Standardised Meal System (Pregnancy Version) by choosing different fish varieties and green vegetables, thus hiding its underlying structure from Rosie. It would be simpler now that she was a meat eater. She had also entered the second trimester of the pregnancy, where the risk of damage to Bud by toxins that she might ingest from her unsupervised meals had lessened. The hard work had been done, at some cost to our relationship, but I could now relax a little.
Things were looking much more positive.
Rosie was back at university for the fall semester. She had a tutorial on the Saturday morning and told me that, having made the journey to Columbia, she would spend the remainder of the day there.
I began my solo day by drawing a one-to-one scale, apple-sized Bud on Tile 15. The Book noted that Bud’s ears had migrated from his neck to his head, and his eyes to the middle. It would have been fascinating to discuss with Rosie, but she was not present. And I had not forgotten her admonition about providing technical commentary.
The obvious starting point for the equipment-acquisition project was a pram: all babies require prams, and I considered myself better qualified than Rosie to select mechanical items. My bicycle represented the result of a three-month evaluation process, culminating in the selection of the appropriate base model plus a list of modifications. I expected the experience to be largely transferable.
At the end of a fulfilling day, interrupted only by food purchasing, lunch and essential bodily functions, my internet-based investigation had produced a set of requirements for the ideal pram and a shortlist of available models, none perfect, but all potentially viable after some modification. I had a satisfying sense of making progress, but decided not to share this with Rosie. It could be another surprise.
There was a second item of equipment which was more critical, at least in terms of the lead time required for thinking and implementation. Rosie had identified the problem of noise from upstairs. However, I had not informed her of the exact agreement with George, which allowed for unlimited music practice at all hours.
The Skype call came through on schedule at 7.00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time; 9.00 a.m. Sunday, Australian Eastern Standard Time.
‘How’s the weather there, Donald?’ said my mother.
‘Minimal change from last week. Still summer. The weather is normal for late August.’
‘What’s that in the background? Are you in the toilet? You can call back when you’re finished.’
‘This is my office. It’s very private.’ Rosie was home and I did not want her listening while I worked on the second surprise.
‘I should hope so. How was your week?’
‘Fine.’
‘You’re well?’
‘Fine.’
‘And Rosie?’
‘Fine.’
If we were using only text messages, I could have replaced myself with a simple computer application. The Fine application. Possibly it would be better than I was at interspersing the occasional ‘good’ and ‘very well’. But this evening/morning, a variation was required.
‘I need to speak to Dad.’
‘You want to speak to your father?’ The speech quality was excellent—fine—but my mother no doubt wanted to confirm the unusual request. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course. I have a technical problem.’
‘I’ll get him.’ Rather than getting him, my mother shouted, ‘Jim! It’s Donald. He has a problem.’
My father does not waste time with formalities.
‘What’s the problem, Don?’
‘I require a soundproof crib.’ Although earplugs provided a simple solution, it had occurred to me that insulating a baby from sound might affect its development in a negative way.
‘Interesting. I suppose breathing is the problem.’
‘Correct. Communication is solvable electronically—’
‘No need to tell me things we both know. But I’m struggling to imagine a soundproof material that air can pass through.’
‘I’ve done some research. There is a project in Korea—’
‘You mean South Korea.’
‘Correct. They’ve developed a material impermeable to sound but permeable to air.’
‘I presume it’s on the internet. Send your mother a link. You’ve given me enough to work on for now. I’ll get your mother back. Adele!’
My mother’s face appeared in front of my father’s. ‘What was that about?’
‘Don wants some help designing a crib.’
