One thing about hanging out with Oona: I'm talking more. Whereas at work I avoided conversation like the plague -- and shut my eyes in its presence, waiting and wishing for the speaker's face to melt, or break out into open sores, or snakes, and their limbs to fall off, and their bodies to burst into flame -- now I talk all the time. I tell Oona about the weather (boo clouds!), and encourage her to poop before naptime. I point out the cats to her, because her delight in them is about the only thing keeping them from an episode of American Mysteries (title episode: Fatty and Scaredy, Two Missing Idiots). I say OhmyGoddoyouhavetocrowdmeonthebedallthetimewhenI'mtryingtoread and then push and roll her back to her own side while she laughs maniacally. We ask questions about her favourite dolls, and who that smiling baby in the mirror is. Yesterday we even talked a little politics (poor ol' Gordon Brown) and hockey (poor ol' Vancouver Canucks, about as mentally tough as a can of Zoodles). I tease, I kid, I cajole. And when she's being scratchy, or whiny, or in tears, I tell her that it will all be better in just a moment. And then it is.
People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m
Just wait till she starts talking back - then you are in trouble!Adorable pictures, I especially love the pose in the top one :)
ReplyDeleteShe is beautiful! :-) I love the top image...too cute. I must say Elle is correct with that comment. They do eventually have minds, and voices of their own (as we all do) but I enjoy that. Looks like your having a good time.
ReplyDeleteLol! Kids definitely make you live in the moment with them! They are such a nice break from the regular adult world! Though it is shocking how often poop is the topic of conversation in a non-joking manner...
ReplyDeleteLove the photos..I used to say to my 1st...say Mama, say Mama..now at age 30 he talks till my eyes glaze over..
ReplyDeleteWhat a CUTIE!
ReplyDeleteLove the pictures. She's sooooooo cute....
ReplyDeleteLittle babies must be the best listeners. :)
ReplyDeleteThat's what I need...someone to tell me it will all be better when I'm being scratchy, whiny, or in tears
ReplyDeleteShe's lovely, and you're both very lucky to be able to spend time together
Oh, and I tend to laugh maniacally too when someone pushes me back onto my side of the bed :)
that was MAGIC...... thank you! (why am I in tears)
ReplyDeletethank you.....
baaaaaaby! OH SO CUTE!!!
ReplyDeletethe first pic is the greatest!
ReplyDeleteand you look different again.
Love this! ♥
ReplyDeleteha! i love the first photo! i love all of this! fantastic!
ReplyDeleteit would be good if more babies were exposed to dads who talked, played, walked and admired them.
ReplyDeletejust keep it up during the wonderful enchanting pre-teen & teen Hell years....