Skip to main content

Drafted: So Logical, So Funny

from October 2010. I don't miss nannying, but maybe I kind of do... I definitely miss kids. Kids are so funny and weird and irritating and adorable.



C asked me today, "How are people made?"

He also asked (while in the bath) if he could wash my hair. I said no, because my clothes would get wet and water would get out of the tub. He said, "Then can you take off your clothes and get in the bath with me?"

The desire to wash my hair started earlier, when he was sitting on my lap after dinner. He was drinking large mouthfuls of water, and asked if he could wash my hair with it. Distracted by a conversation with his brother, I didn't answer fast enough - and he fountained a mouthful of water down my shirt.

Comments

  1. this is a good one (even tho you told me in pers I'm saying this now, readsig it).

    kids are weird and they ask for/enjoy the strangest things.

    I just told B something was sixty minutes. He asked, "You mean one hour?" and when I said easily that those were the same thing he looked at me with 55% confusion and 45% skepticism. I didn't mean to blog on your blog...but that just happened.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Jesskah - love this comment & the story exchange. hooray for kids making connections! (and not quite trusting us...)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...

The ROM, The Earth & Procreation

Disclaimer: This post is intended to generate discussion and a sharing of many opinions. It is NOT intended to judge or condemn anyone's life choices. I had an unexpected moment at the ROM last month. C and I were listening to a presentation for kids on wildlife conservation (or rather, I was listening, and C was eagerly anticipating what live animal would come out next), when a statement caught my attention and still hasn't let go. For most of history, the earth could provide enough resources for the earth's human population. But today, our population is growing rapidly, increasing by 250 000 people every day... Forty years from now, it will require 2 Earths to provide sustainably for our survival as a human species. But we only have 1 Earth. 250 000 people. Every day. That is roughly twice the size of my hometown. In one day. So I did a little math. (First, I rounded down to 200 000, just in case the figures were inflated or failed to account for some sort o...

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...