Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Pretty gross, but not quite as bad as a couple months ago, when I walked into the bathroom to discover that the Papaya's hair was dripping wet. After using the toilet (and before flushing), he had dipped his entire head inside the bowl. Dirty toilet water was running down his face and neck. Hopefully, his swift removal to the shower and the cold water that immediately drenched him, clothes and all, dampened his enthusiasm for a repeat performance.
Are all kids this gross? Is it innate? Or is it just the Papaya? Perhaps he's one of the few who will find satisfaction and success in a future career of sewage processing and management.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Talk about a miracle. The lettuce is actually ready for harvest, enough to make at least three good salads (it's a lot bigger than it looks in this wide-angle). And there's even a little cilantro coming up (still too little to see). Want to come over to our house for some nice fresh salad?
As it turned out, the dust devil changed course & passed quite a distance to the south of us. The Papaya, however, was much impressed, and has been talking about it ever since. I didn't realize how much he had been influenced by it until I found him napping that afternoon with the duvet pulled completely over his head. I pulled it down so he could breathe, but later found it over his head again. When he woke up, he began walking around the house with his hands over his eyes, saying, "I don't have to be scared anymore. I don't have to be scared anymore." When I probed, he told me he was scared of dust devils and that he slept with his head under his covers so they wouldn't get him in his bed. I assured him that dust devils couldn't come inside our house, or our car (we were about to drive to the post office).
As we drove to the post office, he listened to the song I was playing (a contemplative song by Fernando Ortega) and said, "This is a sad song. It's about the dust devil that went away and didn't come back."
"It sounds like you're not scared of dust devils any more," I said.
"No, I'm not scared of dust devils! I love dust devils! Dust devils are my friends!" replied the Papaya emphatically, spreading his arms wide and then crossing them over his chest.
The Papaya's fascination with dust devils has not waned. In Sunday School day before yesterday, I attempted to teach him and a couple other preschoolers about the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Desirous of making a Meaningful Connection, I emphasized that when Jesus' followers heard the sound of a violent wind inside their room, it was just like a dust devil was inside their house. Well, it was a Connection, all right (although I'm not exactly sure what meaning he got out of it.) When the preschoolers got their take-home papers to color, they were supposed to draw tongues of fire over the pictured apostles in the upper room. The Papaya picked up a crayon with enthusiasm. But instead of drawing tongues of fire, he drew dust devils.
The Papaya at the tree, contemplating the dust devil he just saw.