Friday, November 13, 2009

Inky Fingers

We gave Nikos, who's four, my old fountain pen.

It's not perfect for his writing - too small, messy, clumsy. He's best with a pencil.

But the vision of his tiny fingers, stained with Parker blue-black; forming loops and lines on paper; pressing hard and skating lightly, twiddling and scratching - it's a marvellous moment.

Damon the writer says: it's the moment of discovery and adventure.

Damon the father says: it's the moment for soap and hot water.

And both smile quietly.

4 comments:

Gondal-girl said...

gorgeous

Rachel Fenton said...

What's so bad about inky fingers? Is all your furniture white then?

Damon Young said...

Pfft. As much as I love housework, I prefer less than more.

innercitygarden said...

My mother offered to have our lounge suite recovered as a graduation present, I declined, or rather, I said it would be really nice if she'd do that in fifteen years or so when our son has figured out how to wash his painty/inky/muddy hands and is less likely to spill weetbix. Having a couch covered in 80s brown velvet is quite freeing in some ways.