World's cutest felon
posted by rilkefan at 22:55
Monday, November 20, 2006
About Me
- Name: rilkefan
Rilkefan is a high energy particle physicist, poet, and flutist living in the SF Bay Area.
Previous Posts
- Something perfect
- A new verse, free
- Nicholas Lemann in the New Yorker on reactions to ...
- The great slit in Lydia Bennet's skirt
- Along with the hair issue
- Extraordinary admission
- Magical thinking, pewter
- "Hush Little Baby" and Metallica's "Enter Sandman"
- And the fish was this long
- Why death is bad, according to google
5 Comments:
I've been meaning to tell you, Rilkefan and Ms. Rilkefan, that you have one cute, curly-haired kid.
Plus, I'll wager his little sockies and, I'll bet, whatever tiny shoes he wears on his perfectly formed tiny feet make you both want to squeeze his cute self until a substance resembling guacamole comes out of his ears.
Don't squeeze that hard!
This time through 4 years of age was my favorite time of my life with my son, now 17.
He's still great, but when I grab his foot now like you're doing to Rilkekind in the picture, he puts me in a headlock.
Have fun.
So far he's Shoeless R Rilkekind - the bible we follow isn't pro-shoe in early development, for one thing. I keep trying to get him sockless so he can get the best use of his toes but Mrs. R. has a horror of having cold feet. She also hogs all the guacamole, so he gets none.
When I hold his tiny little hands I don't think of squeezing, I wonder how in the world he's ever going to play octaves.
The what-age-is-best discussion is a bit scary - as if one day we'll realize the good part is gone and now we're just fulfilling our obligations.
So far so good though.
What age is best?
It's all good.
But there is something about the absolute, unquestioned, you-are-my-world devotion and love that the birth to 4 years period gives back to the parents that life just does not supply at any other time -- unless you count when you were that age and your parents were looking at you.
Well, I'm just one needy guy, am I not?
I know that's not true of some families for all the usual sad reasons, but it's good without qualification when it happens.
I remember when my son learned to walk and I would watch him toddle to the very edge of the curb and I could say "stop" from 15 feet away and he would (!), and then a little while later I could watch him toddle to the curb and stop all by himself, with a little look over his shoulder with a great smile because not only was it safe but he thought it might please us as much as it did him.
Then, a few years later he would know to put his fingers in my back pocket when we crossed streets or we were in crowded areas.
Now, he touches my elbow at the curb. Not for his sake, but for mine, the incredible, daydreaming,
jaywalking Dad who somehow never looks out for himself.
I'm a bit scared about the language thing - as it stands now, I feel Rilkekind is looking out at the world and perceiving what's happening and just isn't able to communicate with us - when I say "Let go of daddy's radiation badge" he doesn't because he's engrossed. I know it's not so, but I imagine it'll be a bit of an adjustment when he's lingual. (He's added "agua" to "urla" now - I'm still waiting for some German.) He's not interested in crawling - he wants to walk - so that may indicate struggles to come.
This must be Phil Hart's blog. Or you are Phil's doppelganger with cute child that bears an amazing resemblance!
Either way, I'd love to know. And congrats! - A
Post a Comment
<< Home