Week 48: Abandoned
Week 48: Abandoned
It’s comforting to know that for decades, through wars, movements, periods of uncertainty… through times of prosperity and discovery and technological revolutions… throughout it all, kids are STILL making these.
We’re welcoming winter, Nettles, and because it involves warm frothed milk, it’s officially your favorite season.
It’s also your first conscious dinovember. While your brother ponders the universe and your sister cheers them on, you have one reaction, every day, finger pointing:
“Whoa. Whoooa. Whoa! Whoa.”
You’re growing closer to your brother and sister, and they’re becoming more attached to you. Ok, I’ll admit, we’ve been asked “why did you guys make her?!” but all in all, they really do love and adore you. And they’ll drop what they’re doing to help you out. Most of the time.
One thing that hasn’t changed – you’re a messy, if very good, eater.
Week 47: Animals
Look close, the snails are out.
Week 46: Extreme Angle
View from inside the (thorny, ouch) bush.
Week 45: Freeze the Action
After failing to capture something really high speed, I found a slower moving, head bobbing, tongue poking subject.
Week 44: Emotion
This, an hour after listening to the recent This American Life podcast on the way home from work; the one titled, #570: The Night in Question, the one about the Rabin assassination and associated conspiracy theories.
“Listen, I want to talk to you about some stuff. Do your friends talk about Arabs in school?”
“[My teacher] does.”
“When we do [prayers] for the soldiers or people that are sick.”
“What does she say?”
“They throw rocks on us.”
“Do your friends ever call each other Arabs when playing, or say anything?”
“No, but today [friend] asked his ima if he is Arab.”
“He is not Arab… do you know that where I work sometimes Arabs come in to help fix things? And Abba used to work with an Arab guy. And lots of Arabs work around us. And they don’t throw rocks. Most Arabs don’t throw rocks.”
“More throw rocks or less throw rocks?”
“Way less throw rocks.”
“But why do some throw rocks?”
“Because they are angry.”
“But why are they angry?”
“Because sometimes Israelis or Jews make mistakes and do not-nice things to them, and sometimes they do mistakes or not-nice things to Israelis. But you know how we always say that when someone hits you, you should first try talking to them and not hit back? So here people aren’t talking, they are just hitting back.”
“Why aren’t they talking?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to know who to talk to.”
“How do they throw it? The rocks?”
“I guess regular…”
“Like this?” (pitches)
“Sure. I guess.”
“…what kind of rocks?”
“Uh, regular rocks I guess.”
“From the ground?”
“Where does it happen?”
“Where Arabs and Jews live close to each other.”
“Are the rocks big or small?”
“I dunno. Honestly, I’ve never seen it happen. I haven’t ever been there when it happens… yet…”
He looked at me, kind of surprised. It was too late to take it back but it registered I could have been anywhere near involved with an Arab throwing a rock.
“…but that’s a good thing.”
He turned six and a half today.
So I knew it was time for bed when he next asked,
“…but so Ima, why is your shirt inside-out?”