Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Monday, February 26, 2007


Seeing a candy dispenser filled with Skittles, and noticing the "S" on each candy, the kid says, "I think these are S & M's."

* * *

Walking by a fountain, the kid says, "Daddoo, can I throw a coin in there, or a dollar bill?"

* * *

My beloved spouse, bowling the other day: "I am bowling better than I ever have in my life. The only thing thing I can attribute it to is that I have more arm strength from lifting up my son."

The kid, overhearing this remark: "Then you should carry me more."

* * *

I notice myself inhabiting my parents' patterns. My mom's (and her dad's) way of joking with the kid, the same facial expression and tone of voice, the same way of tilting my head. I sit on the floor to tie the kid's shoe, and I feel like I am my dad. So much of life is imitation, so much of it unconscious. I am happy to have my ancestors with me.

(Photo by my beloved spouse, in Chinatown a week ago.)

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