life, unadulterated
It is that moment again. Worlds are colliding inside of me. It is as if history is repeating itself. Where I was once the child unable to make sense of the parent, I am now the parent, seeing my child be the child I once was, seeing myself feeling like
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So D has been down with the gastric flu for the past two days, which means all I need to do is hug him and lie down beside him while KrA sees to it that all our needs are met. The child is such a delight even during a bout
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As of the writing of this post (late in the evening of the sixth day of March), D has 13 books waiting to be picked up at the library. We are very close to the limit of 50 books that can be borrowed at a given time. Which also means
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Sometimes a book has to wait to be found. It has to bide its time until the child falls in love with it. It has to put up with rejection after rejection until at long last, there is a slight stirring of interest one day that quickly morphs into an
life, unadulterated
Not even two months into the year and it already feels as if I have lived several lifetimes, over and over again. And, believe it or not, very little of it has to do with looking after D. Or maybe the arrival of D two and a half years ago
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Our local library, the Burlington Public Library, is particularly generous. One can borrow up to 50 books at a time! And it seems we can renew the books as many times as we please. So far I have renewed several books for D six or seven times. Unless someone has
life, unadulterated
I feel like I must say something to record this moment in time even though I've long realised that words are entirely futile when it comes to recording life events that have to do with D and KrA. The child continues to astonish me with his endless capacity
life, unadulterated
'To A Child', a poem by Christopher Morley
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Every reference to my childhood mischiefs entails a recollection by my maternal aunt of how I used to grab a mug of water and proceed to wash a handkerchief in the middle of the living room of my maternal grandparents’ home, a place that no longer exists in the physical
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Oh, the simple beauty of this tale. Every reading tugs at my heart strings. The author, whose You Can Do It, Sam is another of D’s favourites, employs a simple way of comparing the heart-achingly similar lives of two neighbours - Bunny and Dog - who share a fence.
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Holding within its pages a simple story about a little bear Sam and his mother Mrs. Bear baking cakes to deliver to their friends on Plum Street, this book fast became D’s favourite a few weeks ago. There’s a lot in this book that was already familiar territory
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Given enough time, the impossible can happen. As it did in our home last week. After flipping through the 318 pages of this book every single day, several times a day, for the past five months, giving it a status of indispensability and irreplaceability in his bedtime readings, D decided