Alternate Reality Theory and Baking Cookies

Despite my questionable conjunction usage above, my two topics today are unrelated. At least as far as this post goes. Perhaps, in the future, the two can finally be together as nature intended, but not today.

Anyone with even an inkling of interest in science fiction is undoubtedly familiar with the notion of alternate realities as it is a fiction device used with some regularity, especially in television programs. If you follow any science fiction program, there is almost zero chance that they WON'T utilize the concept of alternate realities at least once--and sometimes you can count on it being used a time or two per season. This practice dates back--at least as far as I'm concerned--to the "evil Spock" episode of the original Star Trek series. From that point on, television writers have positively gnawed at the bit for an opportunity to flex their creative muscles in a reality where pretty much anything can happen and the stringent restraints of popular storylines and characters can be thrown to the wind.

The theory is that, for any decision that is made, two realities are created--one that we inhabit and another where the OTHER option was taken. Terry Pratchett like to refer to this concept as the Trousers of Time. This is a colorful metaphor, if a bit imperfect since the action of placing one leg into pants before the other does not really constitute much of a decision. But it is the metaphor that always comes to my mind when I think about alternate realities, imperfect or not. Considering the numerous decisions that are made every day and the billions of people on the planet, there must be a nearly infinite number of alternate realities.

This is NOT the type of alternate reality I'm thinking of.

No, I'm thinking more of pocket dimensions--an idea that also crops up from time to time in science fiction and fantasy. Specifically, I'm thinking of the concept as it pertains to Dungeons and Dragons, a game I much loved to play in my earlier years (and probably still would if I ever had time to sit down with enough friends for a long enough period of time to actually play it--because I'm just that type of nerd). In D&D, one could, quite easily, find or purchase a magic item known as a Bag of Holding (or one of its numerous variations). A Bag of Holding looked like a normal bag, ranging in size from something like a coin purse to something like a burlap sack. The idea was that things put into the bag were effectively reduced in size and weight--or, more specifically, that the area inside the bag was much larger than the area outside the bag would suggest (like the T.A.R.D.I.S.), and the laws of weight didn't really apply normally either. In this fashion, a gamer could store all sorts of crap that he or she didn't want to get rid of without being too overburdened by the weight of said objects.

But these dimensions weren't necessarily limited to these magic bags. Creative dungeon masters could put them just about anywhere using any number of flimsy excuses or faulty logic.

I believe, somewhere along the line, that Gabe has discovered just such a pocket dimension.

I don't know how he found it or where it is in the house, but there is no other explanation for how things can completely disappear one minute and then reappear, quite out of nowhere, some time later. It has happened too many times in our house to be coincidence--on nearly a daily basis.

Take yesterday for instance. Gabe was lying on the couch "snuzzling," (what he calls snuggling, which is something he likes to do for five or ten minutes on the couch as a sort of warm-up to going to bed). He had his binky and his blankie. I went into the kitchen to finish putting away the lunch stuff and came back not three minutes later to find him looking all over for his binky. It was NOWHERE. We turned the living room upside down but couldn't find it. But I'll bet you a dollar it will show up again in a few days when Gabe reaches into his pocket dimension for something else and discovers it there.

Then, while he was napping, I went about the chore of putting away all of the art supplies that he'd had out earlier that morning. And I couldn't, for the life of me, find four of the caps to his markers. Again, I looked everywhere. EVERYWHERE. But found nothing. When he got up, I asked him if he knew where they were and he acted as if he had no idea what I was talking about. After a minute or so of badgering him to see if maybe something would click, I gave up. He went about his business and I stopped watching him closely for just a short time. Then, Gabe walked up to me and handed me the four caps, as if I were an idiot for not knowing where they were.

Twice in one day! Pocket dimensions, I tells ya!

In other news, a night or two ago, Libby decided to make some cookies, and she enlisted Gabe's assistance. Gabe likes to cook. He's got scads of play food and pots and cups and all sorts of stuff and he pretends to cook stuff up all the time. So I feel a little guilty that I really don't let him help me in the kitchen, but I also REALLY don't like a messy kitchen, and messy kitchens are pretty much a guarantee when Gabe is involved. So I guess it's good that Libby doesn't mind.

Anyway, he got to help and he also got to clean off his first spatula. Libby was able to catch much of it on video.