At Least I'm Capable of Enjoying Smell-O-Vision

Movieline is offering helpful ways to learn whether it's worth taking the kids to see the 3D version of How to Train Your Dragon. If I were going alone, I wouldn't be wasting my time, since I have a lazy eye that I sometimes have trouble keeping in check.

I took Jackson to see the 3D sneak preview of Ice Age 3, which somehow was supposed to be his Father's Day gift to me (don't bother trying to figure that one out), and I was impressed by the newfangled glasses they hand out: no blue-and-red paper shades here.

(The technology existed for several years, I assume, but this had been the first time I ponied up the extra bread to see a 3D version of a movie.)

My bad eyes have always been
an annoyance. Sometimes people don't think I'm looking at them when I'm talking to them, which causes me to avoid eye contact altogether, even though that brings up other assumptions of antisocial behavior. (On job interviews I concentrate to make good eye contact without coming off as a psycho.)

I had to do therapy in sixth grade, most of which consisted of at-home sessions where I placed a half-blue/half-red sheet of cellophane over the TV while wearing those old glasses and trying to make the picture visible. Sure, TV as therapy is pretty cool, but after a while it just got annoying and frustrating to watch a purple version of The A-Team.

The newer 3D technology didn't seem to penalize me when my eyes weren't properly aligned, beyond whatever harmful effects the actual 3d-ish-ness is doing to our peepers. Jackson, for his part, had no interest in wearing the glasses at all, even though a naked-eye viewing of the film was a headache-inducing shade of blurry. A few times I admonished him to put on the damn glasses (as did several parents, mostly dads, to their own kids), but finally I just gave up.

On a somewhat related note, one day the school nurse called to claim that Jackson was colorblind. "Just thought you should know: Jackson took a test, he's colorblind, and there's nothing that can be done about it."

I hung up the phone and relayed the message to Jenn, who yelled at me for not asking any questions then phoned the nurse for more information. Turns out Jackson failed one part of those exams where a number or letter is embedded in a mosaic of colored circles — known as the Ishihara color test — which meant he was colorblind. Everyone we talked to (note: none of these people are eye professionals) thought that diagnosis was hogwash, and for about a week each person would test Jackson by holding up different items and asking, "What color is this? What color is this?"

Jackson passed every unofficial test with flying, well, colors. Which leads us to suspect he was probably screwing around or not paying enough attention. We'll have him tested by our pediatrician, just in case, but I'm looking forward to the day when the nurse calls to tell me he's deaf. Read more...