No more comments. It’s not that I’m getting rid of user feedback, but instead I’m going to leave the discussions to all those great skeptical forums that exist and use your emails and input as a kind of “letters to the editor.”

Themes. Rather than the seemingly random topic-by-topic writing you’d find in a blog, I’ll be picking a theme for each “issue” of the site. For example, the first issue will revolve around “fear” and each of the articles will tap into that thread as they address a unique topic.

Five new (or revised) categories await.

rational education I support the education system. I plan on sending my kids to public school here in Canada. But there are two caveats to that: (1) I do not believe there is such thing as a kid who can be educated solely by the state, and (2) the state only works if parents and the community make sure it has support and guidance.

product overhype

just parenting

media relations

collective thoughts

Call me what you will, but from the beginning of this blog I’ve been held captive between a desire to get parents thinking skeptically — and my skeptical thinking on my own ability to be an authority on said topic. I’m not perfect, but sometimes I think I write only about one side of this parenting equation — and an ideal one at that.

So, just to clear things up…

I’m an average guy. I do average things. Sometimes I sit in front of the television. Sometimes I spend too much time playing video games.

I strive to be a good parent, but I’m not perfect. I get mad when The Girl throws food on the floor and laughs about it. I roll over and stuff my head further into the pillow when she wakes up at 5 AM and wants out of her crib. Sometimes I’m glad after I’ve dropped her off at the day home, particularly following a tough morning — or late, late night. And, just occasionally, I let her eat cookies between meals because she stops crying then and it’s just easier that way.

I’ve rushed through bath time when I know there is a show I want to watch or a book I’ve been reading.

I’ve been too tired lots of times to get off the couch and play “blocks” or “babies” or whatever happens to be the game of the week.

There are times I’d rather do the dishes than deal with a surly child — and I get my way.

I do my best to keep critical thinking and skeptical parenting top of mind, but I slip more often than not. I often, still, look at the “learning objectives” on the packaging of toys and need to catch myself on the skepticism part. I’ve temporarily given up on extensive amounts of reading aloud because The Girl is far more interested in picture books with characters she recognizes. And, I admit it, I catch myself reading all kinds of parenting blogs and online advice and a part of me just wants to be lazy and take it at face value.

I’m an average guy. I happen to be a dad. And I happen to want to be a skeptical parent. I hope not too many people thought there was something more than that here. Misconception resolved? I doubt it.

So, I’m thinking about this father who has no other purpose in the movie than to launch the curiosity of his daughter towards the heavens and then die leaving her with this abstract and quasi-rational need to fill some unfillable hole in her heart. I’m thinking about this father who seems like such the perfect science teacher and practical parent rolled into one. I’m thinking about this father who could be the role model for skepdads everywhere. But then I was wondering (if the poor guy had been a real dad) what kind of a father he could have been and if the whole point of that character was to be some pedestal-mounted ideal of skeptical, science-minded dads could aspire but never obtain?

Perhaps. But maybe that’s the point of literary role models. Maybe we’re supposed to aim high. Thus, what are some of the traits that make the dad from Contact that kind of role model?

1) He lets her tinker. Now I’m not all that into ham radios, but I do have my fair share of miscellaneous technology scattered around the house. Does a science-minded father think first about (a) protecting the investments of his electronics, (b) engaging the curiosity of his daughter, or (c) protecting the safety of his family? I suppose this is a bit of a trick question, but the skepdad in me leans towards a blend of (b) and (c), welcoming the idea of a young mind prying open new technological realms of curiosity, while perhaps keeping an eye out for safety and recalling my young self and his experiments with alternating current in his parent’s basement.

2) He doesn’t lie about death. So when she asks him the hard questions, he doesn’t have easy answers. But then stupid answers make for stupid kids, I suppose.

3) His skepticism is not about cynicism. And though some have argued, it is an occupational hazard, particularly around young minds. We as fathers may have made up our minds about so many important issues, debunked our share of false claims, and come to terms with out own mortal ties to the Earth (however you wish to interpret that) but cynicism can quickly bleed into indoctrination. A skepdad’s role is not to fill the young mind with answers, but to make it ready to ask the right questions.

And there I was, a soon-to-be-dad, and looking at this literary skepdad that embodies a vague — and cinematically short — example of what kind of dad I want to be. A year later… well, I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m finding I’m not alone. And that’s the journey so far.

I gotta send thanks out to any of you who have been hanging on during these moments of Skepdad confusion and transition. The whole idea of the Skepdad Blog has been to explore some issues around (a) skepticism, (b) skeptical parenting, and (c) grasping onto an understanding of what do with this little version of me who is growing up in a culture and community rife with superstition and pseudoscientific messages. My objective is and was to do a lot of thinking and writing on the topic — non-expert that I am — and hopefully cobble together a better understanding of the issues. I aimed for that goal for a number of months then came to the frustrating conclusion that I was aiming at a goal that was beyond the scope of either me or a blog like this. I’ll leave you to figure that out.

So I’ve been soul-searching. And dabbling in the writing part in a sadly sporadic fashion. And judging by the stats, yes a few of you have kept clicking back to see if I’ve sorted things out.

Well, as it stands, I’ve decided to structure this blog a little more thematically and a little less formally. Rather than hop-skipping-and-jumping about the skeptical parenting landscape, I’ve decided to pick some themes and set up something of a “daily column” for the blog. Hopefully that means more content, more focus, and more interesting information for you to read.

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely got an idea of the Sunday and Monday columns, but my planned scope is going to follow something of the list below:

Sunday Reading – I always seem to be reading something. It might be research. It might be an article. It might be a story book to the kid. Whatever it happens to be, Sundays will be my space to file a book report and question the influence of the text on parents and kids.

Monday Meta – Like this particular post, when I write on Mondays it will be pertaining directly to the blog, or about the little skeptical community I’ve been casually building through Facebook and other venues. And by the way, if you haven’t stopped by our group yet, check it out.

Tuesday Media Watch – Beware… my pet peeves lurk here. I’ll try to avoid the soapbox and strive for a skeptical analysis of our “entertainment culture” and it’s effect on raising critically thinking kids. But TV, et cetera, beware!

Wednesday Wild Card – Anything goes. One cannot build a theme site without having a wild card to play on occasion. Who can say?

Thursday Thinkers – Some of the more popular posts I’ve written over the life of this blog are the “tools for young thinkers” posts where I talk about optical illusions, science fairs, or that kind of thing. By the time Thursday rolls around I’ve usually gathered enough of my senses to cobble together some interactive parenting tools for budding critical thinkers.

Friday Consumer Culture – The one topic I’ve always thought is important in a skeptical blog, particularly for parents is that of consumer watchdog. I don’t have many resources to fight the injustices of the economic forces ramming so-called educational baby products down our throats, but you’d be surprised how many folks click through here looking for reviews of this junk before they spend their hard earned money.

Saturday Skeptics – Here I get to write on skepticism. I’ve flooded my free time reading and listening to the skeptical subculture, and I’ll do my best to write about and interpret that from a parenting perspective. Admittedly, I’m on the fringes. But I’m working my way inward.

Ultimately, of course, the goal is to write lots. Lots. Everyday? I’m a realistic guy so don’t count on that. But tune it often and let me know how I’m doing. Comment. Email. Link back. I like that. Because we all know that’s the real reward.

That was two weeks ago.

And in that time, my readers — few and scattered as you are — may have noticed that there has been a vacancy in my own presence here. I’m sorry about that. I’ve been thinking.

I’ve made no bones about the fact that I’ve toed the metaphorical line of my purpose here, dabbled in a number of formats and functions trying to find a place for my writing as a skeptical parent. And I’d be lying if I claimed that I knew with any certainty what that purpose actually is. I stepped into this role, rented a little scrap of web-turf, pitched a tent, hung out my shingle, and have been distributing my own brand of lost musings on the topic of skeptical fatherhood with no more than a vague sense of direction and the feeling that there was a hole in the dijk and someone ought to stick his finger in it before all our feet got really wet.

Early on, I found myself plucking some topic of personal interest from the air, reading hours upon hours of primary and secondary literature on the topic, penning some tangible impressions on the topic from a lay-perspective, and inviting commentary. That was skep/dad’s role, I told myself. That is where the “leak” is happening. But a few articles into that purpose, my appetite for a idle commentary of that particular sort grew stale; I’ve felt the impression that I’m not (as a spectator and a busy parent) in much of a position to analyze these complex topics with any real depth.

Later, I dabbled in the abstractions of definition: what is skepticism, what is critical thought, and why bother? This seemed important — it still does — but one can’t help feel that there is a limit on how far one can go whilst studying one’s own navel.

What became apparent as the months have worn onward is that my explorations as “the skep/dad” had opened a channel of curious exploration that had originally seemed not much more than a few (again with the metaphor!) spotty leaks in the dijk, but more and more proves to be a general and fundamental weakness of the same. Since, I have struggled to find some kind of focus, wrapping my observations on parenting (literature, marketing, myths, and fears) around a skeptical framework and a philosophical approach to fatherhood. And every new investigation opens a dozen more in the telling.

So I take a deep breath and soldier on. But I’ve only got so many fingers.

But I’m still not so sure I’ve figured out where I fit. If you count, in the last few months I’ve written about forty articles on an eclectic collection of topics and enjoy a rich bounty of visitors from around the world, Googling for a variety of inquiries. But there is something of a trap in a project such as this one, particularly for the author: credibility as a rational thinker hinges on the accuracy of every syllable I write. And a novella’s worth of text viewed by thousands of people can be a weighty responsibility.

You might understand now why I seem to think I may have attempted the impossible here. And why, as I mentioned that random parenting book I pulled from the shelf of an unfamiliar bookstore while on vacation has got me to thinking about what I can really accomplish in a space like this. I realize I’ve likely drawn readers down a ill-lit path here, perhaps even coming across as though I was throwing in the towel. But I’m not. I think I might be evolving, and these long-winded explanations are nothing more than fair warning about the realities of blog-stability. I spent that few short minutes flipping through that book and it struck me (kappow!) that my purpose here can easily become so many things. I could attempt a kind of pseudo-journalism, flail along a path of scientific meta-analysis, stroll casually and muse poetically on the op-ed-ish angle of modern parenting, or I could reflect anecdotally on the life of one poor fool trying to raise his kids against the grain of his own entrenched societal pressures.

There is so much work. And I’m gonna need to focus. So I hope you can all spare a little patience while I think about this, that’s all.

In the last month traffic to this site has quadrupled. I know people are reading this, so c’mon and comment. I don’t bite. And here’s your chance. Please, introduce yourself and give me a some feedback on some of the suggestions below. After all, I’m a dad and I don’t have “all the time in the world” anymore. As such, I was thinking of a few topics I’d like to pursue.

Encouraging Creativity

Ah the ‘holy grail’ of bohemian child rearing? I wrote this as one of my goals when I built this blog a number of months back, and by the drought in content around it, one might think I’d almost forgot. The truth is, I’m a bit stumped. How does one encourage kids to be creative in creative ways? What is creativity? How does one teach their child to be a creative individual as part of (and in partnership) with a goal of teaching critical thought? I need to write more on this topic, but where to start?

What Should We Be Reading to Kids

I came across an article the other day that explained that reading to kids really had little to do with future reading skill or intelligence. Great! A skeptical article, but I’ll be darned if I could find the link again. If I recall correctly it was emphasizing that reading aloud in the early years seemed to correlate with later interest in reading, but could not be pinned as a cause. Does that mean reading serves no other purpose? What should we be reading when we read to our kids, and if we hand pick and exclude certain texts what are we teaching them about censorship?

Wacky Product Claims

I consider this an entirely new category of entries that could potentially be developed. I look at boxes and labels of the numerous (but relatively few) toys we have acquired since becoming parents, and I wonder at the creative minds who’ve squandered their talents fooling parents into buying things they don’t need that overstate their own abilities. I consider this a bit of a consumer advocacy role, dipping my toe into dissecting the so-called ‘learning objectives’ and ‘educational values’ of infant and toddler toy-dom. Or would I be, to tread cliche, beating a dead horse?

Video Games and Such

In some respects I think this topic has been overplayed. But I have a few ideas of my own up my sleeve that I’d like to write about. I’m not so much worried about violence in video games or that sort of thing, but rather some of the claims made my kid’s games and so-called learning software. Do those little kids computers that you hook up to a television actually teach kids anything? Do daily “brain training” games really train brains, and what effect do they have on kids? What are some good elements of educational software that parents should be looking out for?

Social Gaming (or throwing the dice?)

I’m finding overlap between fellow skeptics and folks who game. That is to say, the people I know in real life and online who I would consider ‘critical thinkers’ and scientists have a notable affinity for playing complex and unique board games, dice games, or card games. (And I’m not talking poker, though I could be totally wrong on that count.) What do games teach us about thought? Are games good models for teaching integrity to kids (one of skep/dad’s core pillars of critical thinking) or is it mere correlation?

And, on a more serious note: Health

I’m not a doctor. I’m trained in biology, true, but that is definitely no substitute. At best, that background allows me to think a little more critically about kids health claims and perhaps direct eager, self-diagnosing web-surfers in a more medical direction by merely pointing out the contradictions and other worrisome claims made by pseudo-health practitioners. I’m thinking here of exploring the claims related to vaccines, infant chiropractics, and other shady areas of child health I’ve stumbled across in my short career as a skeptical father. Or perhaps I should not even go here.

So, dear reader, on a quiet Sunday evening I leave the verdict to you. Please comment, and let me know what you would be interested in discussing. Over the next six months or so I’ll (hopefully) find the time to talk about many (and maybe all) of these. In the meantime, I’ll keep working on some of my other features such as Avoiding Logical Fallacies, the Defining Critical Thought series, and my Science Fair Project ideas and But from comments I will prioritize.

Of course, this is just a thought experiment. My explorations of logical fallacies is meant as a light-hearted approach to discussing the nuances of common mistakes in the critical thought process. The full index of fallacies can be found here. By examining each of these fallacies I hope to provide opportunity for (1) my own further education, research, and understanding, (2) the education of others, and (3) a reference and foundation for further articles, entries, and topics in this blog. And to proceed with this exploration I am going to fall back on the tried and tested (albeit composed of my own original details) fictitious example and quasi-supernatural thought experiment: skep/dad’s all-natural, one-size-fits-all, time traveling baseball cap, also known as The Chrono-Hat.

The Fallacy of Presuming Causation

skep/dad: Alright, kids. I hope you’re not doing anything too important at the moment. Mr. Dillweed says if we come outside right now we can watch him time travel. He’s got his chrono-hat with him and he says he’s got to make a couple trips. Follow me.

Julia: Where is he?

skep/dad: He’s standing on our front lawn under the big willow tree.

Winston: This better not be some dumb trick. How is he going show us time travel, anyhow?

We parade out our front door to find Victor Dillweed standing on our front lawn as I left him, a faded orange baseball-style cap gripped firmly with both hands, and a wry grin on his face.

Victor: Glad you two finally believe me enough to come out and watch me take my next big adventure. Don’t know if your dad mentioned it, though, but I’m about to make three short jumps.

Winston: Where? Or, I mean… when?

Victor: No need to sneer. Such little cynics you’ve got yourself here, dude.

skep/dad: I try.

Victor: Actually, my first jump will be to a week ago, tomorrow. Uh, six days back, if I count correctly. I’ve lost my keys and I need to figure out where I’ve left them.

Julia: And that will help?

Victor: Sure, just watch.

Victor raises the cap over his head, leveling it a few inches above his brow. He steadies it for a moment, closes his eyes as if concentrating, and then pulls it firmly onto his head in one swift motion. There is a shudder in the leaves on the willow tree behind him as a breeze passes by in the warm summer afternoon. And a second later Victor pulls the cap from his head and brings it down in front of him, eyes open and a look of beaming expectation on his face.

Julia: Nothing happened.

Winston: You didn’t go anywhere.

Victor: It was instantaneous! To your eyes I would have appeared not to have moved a hair, but in reality I was gone for more than an hour. I found my keys, by the way. Stupid me, I locked them in my car’s trunk.

Winston: You expect us to believe that without any proof?

Victor: I guess it depends on how observant you were. I’ve been told — only told this mind you — that there is an ever so slight shift in air pressure when I travel that makes the wind move around me. I’ll take my second trip and you can watch. Pay close attention to any signs of the wind moving this time.

The kids look at each other doubtfully.

skep/dad: Where are you off to this time, Vic?

Victor: Ah, yes. I almost forgot. My daughter’s piano recital was last Tuesday. She thinks I was there, but it must have been me from the future going back in time to see it. I figured I’d get that chore out of the way before I forgot to go back entirely and created some sort of temporal rift in the universe or something.

skep/dad: Give her our best.

Once again the performance is repeated, the cap lifted to Victor’s head followed by a hesitation. He waits a moment, then as he pulls the cap onto his brow once again, the leave shudder behind him, and he yanks the cap off once again. He takes a deep breath and looks at the three of us once again.

Victor: She’s so talented. It makes a father proud.

Winston: Well, you were right about the air.

Julia: I did see it move that time.

Victor: You finally believe me? I told you. I told you!

skep/dad: Perhaps you had better take your final trip, Vic. Just, you know, so we can see it one more time. To be sure.

Victor: Alright. Sure. No problem.

Julia: And where are you going?

Winston: You mean ‘when are you going?’

Julia: Whatever.

Victor: Yes. When? Ah. Well, I have one more quick trip to make into the past. Mrs. Dillweed loaned one of her recipe books to a friend last week. Now she wants to bake some cookies from, but her friends is out of town. She remembered most of the recipe, but I need to go back and see how much flour she was supposed to use. They are very tasty cookies.

skep/dad: At your leisure, then, Vic.

Victor’s sly grin has never left his face and he winks at me before he, for the third time, engages the routine of lifting the hat to over his head and holding it there. This time there is a long pause, nearly a minute, while Victor stands leveling the cap, eyes closed. Finally, the performance concludes as expected from the previous two: a swift pull of the cap over the head, a shiver in the tree behind as the wind gust suddenly, and the cap is removed.

Julia: I think that proves it. Did you all see the tree move?

Winston: That was amazing.

Victor: It moved then? The air pressure changed around me and the tree moved?

Julia: Yeah. I can hardly believe it?

Victor: Well, then it looks like I’ve finally convinced you all. What does your dad think?

skep/dad: It was a fairly impressive performance, I’ll admit. But, I would ask Winston and Julia one thing. How certain are you that the leaves shaking in the tree were caused by time travel?

Julia: Well, it’s a pretty big coincidence, otherwise.

Winston: There’s no other explanation. At least…

skep/dad: Would you say that Mr. Dillweed could prove the two events were connected?

Victor: Tell your dad I just did.

Winston: He didn’t really prove it. But they did happen at the same time. Three times! That’s very convincing.

skep/dad: It can be convincing. But do you think we should be presuming that one event caused the other? As Julia said, it’s a pretty big coincidence. But isn’t that a possibility, too?

Julia: I suppose. Maybe the two aren’t connected at all then.

Winston: He could have just timed it really well.

skep/dad: Mr. Dillweed put on quite a performance. But we I don’t think we can use this as proof. This is what some scientists would call presuming causation when it is really correlation. Correlation means that two events happened at the same time, but are not necessarily connected.

Victor: I resent that.

skep/dad: Sorry, Vic. But there is still a big hole in your proof. But feel free to bring us some of those cookies when they’re ready.

Of course, this is just a thought experiment. My explorations of logical fallacies is meant as a light-hearted approach to discussing the nuances of common mistakes in the critical thought process. The full index of fallacies can be found here. By examining each of these fallacies I hope to provide opportunity for (1) my own further education, research, and understanding, (2) the education of others, and (3) a reference and foundation for further articles, entries, and topics in this blog. And to proceed with this exploration I am going to fall back on the tried and tested (albeit composed of my own original details) fictitious example and quasi-supernatural thought experiment: skep/dad’s all-natural, one-size-fits-all, time traveling baseball cap, also known as The Chrono-Hat.

The Fallacy of the Argument from Authority

skep/dad: Hi kids! I was just out cycling with Mr. Dillweed and we just had another very interesting conversation. I’ll bet you can guess what he was telling me about.

Julia: His Chrono-Hat?

Winston: Did he tell you he had been time traveling again?

skep/dad: Don’t sound so exasperated you two. That is, in fact, exactly what he was telling me. He was quite excited because he’d been to the future this time. Apparently his very short trip took him to the middle of next month. He didn’t really talk to anyone — or so he says — but he did go and see that new movie that’s been advertised lately. You know the one… uh…

Julia: Was it Rambo? I think it must have been Rambo.

skep/dad: No. I think it was something more for kids.

Winston: A cartoon? I think there is another Disney movie coming out soon.

skep/dad: Maybe. It will come back to me when I see the advertisement again. Anyhow, the name of the movie isn’t important right now. Mr. Dillweed says it’s not a very good show. My question to you is whether or not we should believe his movie review or not? What do you think?

Winston: Well… if we believe him then don’t we also need to believe that he’s been time traveling again?

skep/dad: Perhaps. That sounds reasonable. Though there could be other explanations. Julia?

Julia: I asked my teacher at school about it. Time travel, I mean.

skep/dad: Did you? And what did she say?

Julia: She told me that time travel wasn’t real and that your friend was just being silly. And she told me to stop worrying about it and finish my math problems.

skep/dad: Did she explain why she thought it wasn’t real?

Julia: No. But she’s the teacher.

Winston: She still needs evidence, right dad?

skep/dad: Now again, I think we need to be careful about judging a story based on the people telling it. Do you remember when we made the mistake of ad hominem? It’s easy to judge that a story is true or false because we think the person telling it has a record of fibbing. But we can also make the opposite mistake. We can assume that because someone seems to be smarter than us or in a position of leadership that we don’t need to question what they tell us. I’m sure your teacher is a very smart young woman, Julia, and she may be absolutely right in telling you what she did. But do you think she is always right?

Julia: Well…

skep/dad: I’m glad you think so highly of your teachers, but we don’t want to make the mistake of the Argument from Authority. Someone like a teacher, a scientist, or even a doctor is usually trained and in a position of what we call authority, but that should only help us to trust what they say. Even those types of people who we normally trust also require evidence to back up their stories before we know for sure what they are telling us is true. Does that make sense?

Winston: Even if they are on TV?

skep/dad: Especially if they are on TV! Now, I don’t know if we can solve the mystery of Mr. Dillweed’s time traveling today, but for now I think the best way for us to get a reliable review of that movie is to wait and see it ourselves. My treat, guys!