Thursday, November 12, 2009

Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice... bony, scaly dinosaur's tails.

Here's Sophia at eleven months, cutting her fangs on a stegosaur.

Where did the last eleven months go? Just yesterday I was catching her, bloody and slick with amniotic gush; walking in the thick, heavy rain, carrying grilled salmon to the hospital for Ruth; showing Nikos the wrinkled wriggling bundle of his sister.

How many nappies, jars of muck, midnight cries, stumblings and burpy smiles? How many words, new dresses and mouths full of sand?

It's all a blink; a lightning flash. What just happened?

(Thomas Mann and Marcel Proust would have had a field day with this parental temporality.)


genevieve said...

Yep, it just grows wings and flies, does time, when you are young and being constantly filled with food and stimulation, and when your parent is the one doing the feeding and stimulation especially.
Is that what 'jars of muck' refers to? I'm a wee bit confused - my parents had twins after me and used to joke about bottling some strange things.

Damon Young said...

Oh, I just meant baby food - jars of sludgy, mucky, mashed odd stuff. (Mostly fruit.)

(But tonight, the REAL muck: dolmades.)

Elisabeth said...

It's true, Damon, and more so these years, when little ones change so dramatically, so quickly.

As everyone says, enjoy while it's there, adolescence and all that follows is just around the corner.

Damon Young said...

You know, adolescence wasn't so bad for me. I just loathed high school. (I think Nikos will too.)

Elisabeth said...

Maybe the loathing of high school turned you in some ways into the philosopher you've become and maybe that's not so bad.

But it must have been awful at the time.

Damon Young said...

Whatever philosophical urges I had, high school stifled them. And in so doing, it added a little frustration, alienation and eccentricity to my character.

In other words: perfect for a burgeoning philosopher.

If you can drop me a line, I'll email you something I wrote on this.