When I first became an at-home dad, way back in 2002, I was sure I was part of an exploding trend. The number of at-home dads seemed to be growing exponentially, and all the signs pointed to continued growth.

That was what it felt like. The reality was somewhat different. The number of dads at home had indeed, from a small number to a slightly larger (but still small) number. If you squinted at the statistics the right way, it looked impressive. But the raw numbers told a different story. The number of guys doing the at-home thing was only 105,000. In a country of 300 million, that's a rounding error. That group wouldn't even fill the football stadium at the University of Michigan.

But dads have now officially arrived, according to Working Mother. The magazine this week published a hyperventilating piece on the danger that working moms face in divorce. More and more often, custody decisions are going to non-working fathers, leaving working women worried. It would be great sport to poke holes in this argument, but Greg over at DaddyTypes has already beat me to it. Needless to say, gender roles and divorce is a lot more complicated than Working Mother makes it out to be.

But these kind of articles are cultural markers, and I'll take this one as evidence that dads are being taken seriously as fathers. It used to be that a caregiving dad was an exception, and everything in society subtly reinforced that. The men's rooms without changing tables, the marketing jingles about how "mom" or "mommy" should buy product X, the utter lack of a diaper bag that was designed for a man. And while we haven't exactly hit the tipping point where everything is equal, Jack Spade will sell you a super-fashionable, $150 diaper bag.

Like a made-for-dads diaper bag, the assault by Working Mother is a sign that society at large understands that childrearing is not the sole province of women. And while that may complicate life for some in the midst of divorce, it's good news for the rest of us.

Anyone with even the vaguest knowledge of what goes on in the publishing industry probably realizes all those sexy, magazine-cover images of movie stars and models are usually -- shocker! -- airbrushed. But for some reason, most of us may not have considered that the cherubic faces beaming at readers from the front of some parenting mags also have been retouched to make them look more attractive.

The Telegraph, expanding on information first uncovered in a BBC documentary called "My Supermodel Baby," reported earlier this week that Practical Parenting and Pregnancy, a UK magazine, alters some baby photos to make skin tones more even, eyes brighter and creases of fat less apparent.

Editors at U.S. magazines, on the other hand, have insisted that they don't resort to such practices. Representatives from BabyCenter.com, Parenting and Baby Talk magazines are quoted in sfgate.com's Mommy Files blog as saying that they make standard adjustments but never remove imperfections.

Do you believe them, though? Would you be surprised to learn that more magazines sometimes alter baby photos? And in a world where we all have access to the flaw-deleting joys of Photoshop, do you ever get a little "creative" with your own kids' pictures?

Jen Chaney oversees movie coverage for the Post's Web site, contributes to Babble's Strollerderby blog, posts here in On Parenting every Thursday and would love to airbrush her hideous perm out of all of her photos from the years 1987 and 1988.

Stories from today's Local Living section:

There are more than a million pieces of scholarship published in peer reviewed journals every year, and yet -- despite all of that frothy research-- some of the biggest mysteries in our world remain unexplained. Among the questions we have not had a good answer for: Why do toddlers ask "Why?" all of the time.

It's a brutal phase, and I've yet to meet a parent who hasn't had to endure months and months of getting that one-word reply. I've heard various strategies for getting around it, including nonsense answers that seek to break the cycle and rules that bar one-word questions. But getting around the "why" phase doesn't answer the question: why? Why is "why" so fundamental to toddlers?

But in research published this month, we're beginning to get a sense of some answers. A research team from University of Hawaii and the University of Michigan found that kids are asking "why" as a means to get information about the world. The research found (PDF) that when children received explanatory information, they were more likely to end the questioning. At first blush, this seems utterly self-evident, but I think back on the "why"-based conversations that I've had, and it felt like most of them weren't about information-seeking. Mostly -- to my mind -- she was just trying to talk, and that was the easiest way to make conversation:

"Why are you turning the car," she'd say.

"Because this is the way to school," I'd answer.

"Why?"

"Because the school is down this road."

"Why?"

"Because that's where it is."

"Why?"

"Hey! Let's put on some sing-along music!"

Of course, this academic research only gets us so far. The authors note that additional studies needs to be done to stop the "why" cycle, most importantly figuring out what makes for a satisfying answer for the toddler. I'll stay tuned for that. In the meantime, how have you broken the string of "why's without squelching your child's exploration of the world?

One of the best parts of adulthood is that I am no longer graded on my ability to draw. For whatever reason, I never really got past the stick-figure stage. Fortunately, I now live in an adult world where PowerPoint can cover up my freehand liabilities and stick figures are more or less acceptable on those rare occasions when I absolutely must communicate visually.

But this leaves me a bit stuck when it comes to playing an active role in exposing my kids to visual arts. I'm a passable musician, so I'm capable of giving some guidance there. But when it comes to art, I'm at a loss.

I'm now trying a three-pronged approach. The first is to buy as many art supplies as I possibly can -- paint, markers, easels, modeling clay. You name it, we have it in the basement somewhere, easily accessible. The second prong is to participate right alongside the kids, regardless of how feeble my illustrations of a cat might be. And the last element is not to care what anyone's final product looks like, as long as everyone enjoyed themselves. In this, I take a lot of inspiration from a wonderful children's book called "The Dot."

But I am not wholly confident in this approach. It seems like art is one of those areas where expression might be important, but -- at the end of the day -- there is something to be said for technical skill. And I am certainly not bringing anything close to technical skill to the table when we break out the art supplies. I'm sure I'm not the first one to encounter this problem, so I'm curious if any of you have strategies to make sure that kids love art ... and end up better at it than I.

Last week, my oldest had her braces adjusted, which ushered in a 48-hour period in which she'd wince at the sight of anything firmer than a banana. Being an occasionally short-sighted parent, I hadn't adjusted the dinner menus to reflect her opposition to chewing. So with the hour getting late, and the little one beginning to melt down, I thrust my older a box of mac and cheese and told her to get cracking.

"Dad," she pleaded. "I've never made this stuff. What do I do?"

I was momentarily awestruck by my poor parenting -- mac and cheese is a skill every bit as important as learning multiplication tables. I hastily pointed out the instructions; she was (more or less) on her way. The whole episode made me realize that despite our forays into the culinary arts, she hadn't yet mastered the basics of cooking. She could absolutely follow a recipe, particularly with adult help, and she could make a mean sesame-crusted salmon fish sticks and generally passable guacamole. But we hadn't mastered solo use of the stove for even the basics.

This got me thinking about the culinary repertoire that kids should leave elementary school with, and I came up with five basics. All have at least three ingredients, require the use of heat and none involved raw meat, which is a reflection of the fact that I still fear bits of pink chicken strewn around the kitchen:

• Mac and cheese: The fake stuff, and a better version involving actual grated cheese.


• Pancakes: The actual breakfast of champions, requiring nothing but mix, milk, eggs and a few good turns with a spatula. For special occasions, all you need is a handful of chocolate chips.


• Grilled cheese: I was 30 before I learned the secret to masterful grilled cheese: lots of butter, low heat.


• Tuna casserole: There is a certain magic in the way that condensed soups can turn a pan of noodles and tuna into something entirely different.


• Cheese eggs: You have a break a couple of eggs, but it's never too early to start making gooey eggs.

As always, the list is open to revisions. What are the basics every pre-tween should have down?

This week marked a pop culture watershed. Big Bird and his crew turned 40.

Surviving 40 years in TV land is tough and getting tougher. "Reading Rainbow" never made it to middle age. The Teletubbies lasted four years. "Dora" hasn't hit double-digits (and yet is still desperately trying to hang onto its audience). And my assessment of the Halloween costumes on the kids here suggests that kindergartners are done with "Power Rangers." What's more, I've never heard of "Sesame Street" backlash. My oldest, wisely but disingenuously, will deny up and down that she ever willingly watched Barney and Friends. But she'll cop to tuning into see Super Grover as a preschooler.

Ask anyone -- kids, high-school students, adults of a certain age -- and they'll be more than happy to give you skits, tunes or plot points from their formative years of Sesame Street. I know a number of people who are still get livid when they think about the decision to make Snuffleupagus a physical character, rather than Big Bird's imaginary friend. Cookie Monster remains a part of the hipster consciousness, and even Stephen Colbert has bemoaned Cookie Monster's pivot away from cookies as a dietary staple.

Unfortunately, even if it survives another 40 years, my kids aren't likely to have the same formative memories of Sesame Street. We've gone through the Elmo phase, but I can't imagine that either of them were very touched by Elmo. As the years have gone on, Sesame Street seems to have become safer and more homogeneous, even as the competition for the attention of the preschool set has exploded. Elmo is just another fuzzy thing in their universe of licensed characters.

I have two questions for you, on this Friday: Do (or did) your children watch Sesame Street with any regularity, and what was your favorite moment from the show? If you need a little refresher, check YouTube. If you need a big refresher, check out Jen Chaney's DVD review. Babble has a great cheat sheet of their 50 favorites. Here's mine (narrowly beating out Richard Prior):

Mickey Mouse, the way he was. (Disney Enterprises)

Apparently, we Americans -- particularly our kids -- don't think much of Mickey Mouse anymore. It's not that we can't stand the remarkably high-pitched sound of his voice. It's more that we have stopped listening altogether.

That's why -- as reported last week by the New York Times -- the people at Disney are in the process of reinventing their iconic character, attempting to make him feistier and more relevant to today's young'uns. In other words, M-I-C-K-E-Y may eventually spell badass.

I am not a huge fan of kiddie character makeovers. I wasn't particularly jazzed when Strawberry Shortcake was robbed of her bloomers and turned into a pre-teeny bopper who looks like she just got back from a shopping spree at Forever 21. And that sentiment goes double for the reimagined Holly Hobbie.

But Mickey Mouse is in another stratosphere. He is not only a recognizable personality to children all over the world, he is the face of one of the largest entertainment companies on the planet, and has been for decades.

And that's why it's even more vital that his image not be tampered with. Because once you turn Mickey into a tough guy, it's only a matter of time until Donald Duck starts talking like James Earl Jones, Goofy becomes a suave, decidedly serious life coach and Minnie Mouse ditches the big hair bows and poufy skirts so she can take up kickboxing.

I'll also point out that numerous kid-friendly characters -- among them Big Bird, Snoopy and Hello Kitty -- have remained enormously popular for many years without any significant tweaks. So I say: Disney, leave the Mouse alone.

And if you really want to reinvigorate his popularity, just cast him in a supporting role in a Pixar movie. Every young child in America will learn who he is faster than you can say "Toy Story 3."

Jen Chaney oversees movie coverage for the Post's Web site, contributes to Babble's Strollerderby blog and posts here in On Parenting every Thursday. She also once owned her own pair of Mickey Mouse ears.

Stories from today's Local Living section: