Happy birthday to Abel
He turned one. He slept most of the day because the doctor gave him five shots.
More appealing, if less vital, were these gifts:
Cupcakes.
Onesies (i.e., bodysuits).
Wagon, Radio Flyer, plastic, small. For giving rides to stuffed animals. (Did I mention he walks now?)
Dog, white with black spots, plastic, noise-making, profoundly disturbing to Samuel.
Literature: Fortunately, by Remy Charlip. Not really meant for Abel’s age-group (he doesn’t object). Amusing to Samuel. Mildly disturbing to Daniel. Both reactions are correct.
Most of these gifts were from Karin’s dad’s family.
Abel was to have had a little party at my parents’ house, but my mom slipped on some ice and broke her arm. She’ll have surgery later this week. Last night, when I called, she was in high spirits: adequately drugged, surrounded by other progeny.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Here is another quote about the postman Courtney Elliot, from The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole:
Not just any chair would do. I would need a sofa, or at least an armchair from Goodwill.
More appealing, if less vital, were these gifts:
Cupcakes.
Onesies (i.e., bodysuits).
Wagon, Radio Flyer, plastic, small. For giving rides to stuffed animals. (Did I mention he walks now?)
Dog, white with black spots, plastic, noise-making, profoundly disturbing to Samuel.
Literature: Fortunately, by Remy Charlip. Not really meant for Abel’s age-group (he doesn’t object). Amusing to Samuel. Mildly disturbing to Daniel. Both reactions are correct.
Most of these gifts were from Karin’s dad’s family.
Abel was to have had a little party at my parents’ house, but my mom slipped on some ice and broke her arm. She’ll have surgery later this week. Last night, when I called, she was in high spirits: adequately drugged, surrounded by other progeny.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Here is another quote about the postman Courtney Elliot, from The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole:
Courtney Elliot has offered to give me private tuition for my “O” levels. It seems he is a Doctor of Philosophy who left academic life after a quarrel in a university common room about the allocation of new chairs. Apparently he was promised a chair and didn’t get it.I don’t think I would leave a university if I didn’t get a Chair, but I might if I didn’t get a chair. Some intellectuals (e.g., Victor Hugo, Sam the Architect) stand before a desk to work, but I’m not so vigorous as to do that.
It seems a trivial thing to leave a good job for. After all, one chair is very much like another. But then I am an existentialist to whom nothing really matters.
I don’t care which chair I sit in.
Not just any chair would do. I would need a sofa, or at least an armchair from Goodwill.