My first Sunday at St. Cosmus’ was lovely. I felt very welcomed. People seemed to enjoy my sermon and to be enthusiastic about having the Tilt/Weirdbird/Zag family around. And I had Saturday off, and this afternoon off, and I have tomorrow off – a good breather before starting another busy week. (more…)
Moment 1: It is naptime and Zag cannot get himself still. He seems to accept the general idea of naptime and is lying down in bed, but his eyes are wide open and he keeps finding new games to play with his fingers – pushing on his nose, stroking the wall, playing with my jewelry. Over and over again I pause my soporific singing to say, “Please settle!” and he replies, “I am!” (more…)
His name is Peekapah, and he’s much older, maybe 11, or 20. He sleeps in Zag’s room. He knows how to handle a gun and has been in a war. He can play baseball, but is usually too busy to teach Zag. He used to have a pet buffalo. He can drive. And he knows how to sing Compline in French.
Zag’s been in such a great mood this afternoon and evening. When I took over at bedtime to sing him to sleep, he asked for the cider song – a thoroughly silly song about sipping cider through a straw that I learned at camp many years ago. Then when I started to sing, he joined in and sang the whole song right along with me. This was somewhat counter to the singing-to-sleep project, but it was so sweet I didn’t argue; it’s the first time we’ve actually sung something together. (more…)
Best new line to try in a crowded singles bar: “I love you. Can my spit be friends with your spit?” (From Zag, trying to delay naptime with strategic cuddliness.)
The move went well. We had good help at both ends. (more…)
- a partial list.
Seeing a small parade of protesters (for reform of the CORI system) and having him ask, “What are those people doing?”, and trying to explain the right of free assembly, and why it matters that we have it.
Singing him “Summertime” as he falls asleep.
Watching the very inclusive montage of families on “Elmo’s World” with him – so glad there are glimmers of a worldview that inclusive to share with him.
The intent expression on his face as he hears “Yellow Submarine” for the first time. (I know, it’s criminal negligence that this hasn’t happened already. He’s been so busy with TMBG and the Aquabats.)
Tilt, remember that ride-on rocket car that Alex had, back when Zag was spending Tuesdays with Alex? Well, they had one at the Davis Square Goodwill today. It’s in our living room right now. If you weren’t out of town, this object would not have come home with us. But I was unwilling to face singlehandedly the scale of the tantrum that would have ensued if I had tried not to buy it. It can get lost in the move, if necessary. I will say for it that at least the perky voices that say “All systems go!”, etc., are not all that loud… (more…)
I’ve tried to do my academic business while Zag is napping or with other people, during my years at Hogwarts, but now and then I’ve had to haul him along while visiting a professor to consult about a paper or some such. Apparently this has left an impression upon him which I had not heretofore realized. Yesterday he was playing in my office while I puttered at my desk, and he tried on a pair of slip-on garden shoes of mine and said, “I’m a professor! You can come visit me.”
Intrigued, I asked him how you can tell that someone is a professor. He said, “They have blinky eyes. Kids don’t have blinky eyes. And professors have long feet.”
Hmm.
Zag’s veggie bacon, at lunch, to his bread (voiced by Zag): Hey, come on! Let’s go down in Zag’s tummy!
Bread (also voiced by Zag): OK!
(Both dance across the table to Zag. He eats up the bacon.)
Bread: Hey, wait for me!
* * * * * *
Zag (singing and jumping on the bed): It’s good for the anteaters… it’s good for the anteaters… it’s good for the anteaters….
Tilt: What’s good for the anteaters?
Zag: I not telling you about them. I just singing about them.
I have, I believe, mentioned that Zag is in a pretending-heavy stage. Before I went away for the past week, we had settled into a pattern in which Tilt was Moominpappa, I was Moominmamma, and Zag was their son, Moomintroll – all from Tove Jansson’s wonderful books. Prize was the Muskrat, a philosophically pessimistic character who broods a lot.
When I came home, I discovered that our roles had shaken up a little while I was gone. Tilt was still Moominpappa and Prize was still Muskrat, but Zag had become Moominmamma, and I had turned into one of the non-Moomin characters – first Sniff, and then Snufkin, a character notable for his wanderings.
Tilt’s away for several days next week. Maybe I’ll get to be Moominmamma again, then. I wonder who Tilt will turn into?