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Zoe works on her animals from varohaub on Vimeo.

I'm reading Getting Things Done again, hoping to myself silently that this time around I'll get the system up and running and keep to my guns long enough to reap the benefits of an "organized life." (Whatever that means.)

It's not that I don't believe in GTD—really, I think it's the best organizational system in the world. I've had more than a few sips of that Kool-Aid, but like everything else in my life, believing is one thing and performing is another.

One of the things that is both wonderful and difficult about being the stay-at-home-in-the-morning father of an 18 month-old baby is the kind of "thinking time" you get.

Here's what I mean: hanging out with Zoe isn't like brain surgery. There are no complicated problems to figure out, no serious problems to solve. All of that comes later, I think. For now, we say, "look!" to each other a lot, and roll around on the floor laughing, and carry toys from one room to the next. There's a lot of space in my brain for thinking during these times, though when she's awake, I try to be present as much as possible. Every day is new and wondrous.

But when she goes down for her nap, I have to spring into action. Dishes need to be washed, the animals need food, I have to grab a shower, lunches need to be packed, etc. Again, none of this is like doing calculus, or solving a complicated strategic problem. It's all busy work that just has to get done NOW.

So I tend to play games with myself while I'm doing the dishes or picking up toys. I make up problems—usually ones that grow out of some kind of day-to-day experience I'm having, but not always—and I try to solve them. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm that kind of geek.

The one I did most recently kept me up into the night and required some work in a spreadsheet program, but I solved it. For the pleasure of geeks everywhere, I present it to you now:

The Scenario
You are buying groceries one evening with your family. While checking out, sirens and lights go off everywhere and balloons drop out of the ceiling. The manager of the store comes running out to you and says, "you may have won 1 million dollars!"

Excited?

He brings you over to the customer service counter, where they've set up a green felt gaming board. You see a stack of red dice on the board.

Here's what the manager tells you:

We're going to roll these dice once to see if you've actually won 1 million dollars. Here's the deal: you decide whether you want to roll 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or 7 dice. When you've decided on the number of dice to roll, I'm going to grab the same number of dice for myself.

We'll roll our dice at the same time, we'll count up all of the numbers from each of the dice, and whoever has the higher number wins.

But to make it a bit more interesting, and because you are a valued customer, I'm going to give you a tiny advantage: I'll give you a win if we tie.

Go ahead and grab the number of dice you want to roll, and let's see if you walk out of this store a millionaire! Remember, you can choose to roll 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or 7 dice.

The Question
Here's what I want to know from you: What number of dice gives you the highest probability of winning?

All seven possibilities are better than 50%, simply because a tie goes to you, as the attacker. But I want to know how much better than 50% each of the seven possibilities is.

Everyone will have an intuitive answer, but that's not what I want. Give me the intuition, but I also want to know what the percentage chance is to win for each of the seven scenarios. I'll need to see your work, too. Tell me how you got there.

The Spoils
I don't expect a lot of people to play this game, but post the right answer in the comments first, and you could win something geeky. Maybe a t-shirt, probably a gadget. You'll have to play to find out. But you have to be a complete dork (like me) to want to solve this problem at all, so I know that it doesn't matter what you win. Getting the right answer will be the best reward of all.

Anyone out there know where I can get my hands on a duffle coat just like this one? It's navy with white rope loops, light wooden toggles, and a red-lined hood. You all recognize the movie, right?

I've been looking everywhere, and no luck. Help!

Dearest Zoe,

It's July, and you've been walking for over a month now. You've been toddling around the house like the little person you are. Also, all of that walking has taken the baby fat right off of your bones. You keep on getting bigger, but you're getting thinner, too. With the genes you inherited from your mom and dad, you'll probably be thin as a rail for the first 30 years of your life. That was hard to imagine even two months ago because you were such a cute little roll of baby fat, but these days you're starting to look like you are your parents' daughter.

Last night when I got home from work, you came bobbling over to me and grabbed me around my neck. Once in a while (this is the second time) you just can't get enough of Daddy, which I think is just about the best thing that ever happened. If I put you down, you followed me around with your arms in the air, moaning like a baby elephant until I picked you up again. I spent a good part of the evening trying to do my part as a member of the Varo-Haub household while holding you with one arm.

For the last several weeks, it seems like you learn a new word every day. You've been calling your socks "sschhccs" for about three weeks now. Every animal in the world is a "tat" (and to be fair, the two largest animals in your house are cats, so you're right a good percentage of the time). The other day you said something that sounded like "pants" when I was changing you and then you laughed your little head off.

Today you started calling Bella, "bellabellabellabella." You chased her around the house for at least an hour doing that. I can't tell you how cute it is.

Your mom really likes letting you feed yourself. I feel very good about this idea in principle, but in reality, you make the biggest, craziest messes. The animals pace below your high chair, waiting for the detrius of the dinner experience, fighting over the scraps that seem to fly in all directions at once.

Fortunately, you get a bath every night, where you love use your little plastic watering can. You dunk it until the bubbles stop, then holding it tightly around the spout like it's a baseball bat, you lift it up in the air and giggle while the water pours directly out of the holes in the bottom of the spout.

You're starting to climb up on top of things, which is scary but also wonderful. It just means that we follow you everywhere you go in the house.

You are precious, and don't ever forget how much we love you, mi querida Zoe.