“What would Jesus Christ think of Ares?” Beren asked.Read More
I remember being a kid. I remember some of things that seemed so great and some of the things that seemed so bad. Those things were so great. Those things were so bad. They were. I remember.Read More
I found this note on a scrap of paper. It is probably about 3 years old. Beren is past his Richard Scarry days, in which we find the compelling but bit part character, Maniac. Here is what Beren told me about Maniac:
Maniac’s ear and arm fell off. He plants mugwort. He uses a tea candle as a fire pit. His house is no color. He had no family.
Self-portrait in the bathroom, December 30, 2018.
Spent the day with family. Two babies. Beren played with my cousins and then turned his attention to these little creatures, six and fourteen months. They were attentive to his leaping, running, and goofing. My six month old niece’s legs and arms went taut with excitement as she watched him. He encouraged my cousin’s fourteen month old, “Try to get me!” in a high pitched voice, coming closer as he gauged her ability to catch him.
In preparation, we read a book about babies. “I don’t play with babies,” he said. “Babies are weird.” “They certainly are different than big kids,” I said.
I was really warmed to see the way he interacted, finding ways to have fun with them and considering their abilities. I was reminded of a favorite book, Free to Learn by Peter Gray who discusses how mixed aged groups of children are so important and are often self-regulating. Beautiful and true.
As of this rotation around the sun, my kid has been partially infected by the most deadly and widespread malady of the twentieth and twenty-first century — Consumerula inflata. It is commonly known as The Gimmes.Read More
Of the shopping cart with the vehicle on the front, his hand upon the roof of the puffy-looking, no sharp edges, no danger vehicle, “I don’t want to ride in this. I don’t want anyone to think I am a little kid.”
Those carts used to be sought after by both of us, my savior, my route to peaceful grocery shopping. Alas.