Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Monday, July 10, 2006 Palimpsest
We are desperately in need of rain here.
The fifth incarnation of my lawn isn't yet brown and dead yet, mind you. I credit that both to early planting and the fact that I didn't quit watering it once the entire area turned green like I normally do. I think this is the farthest into the summer my backyard grass has ever survived. That may change if it doesn't rain soon. I skipped a few days of watering last week (mainly because now M. Small insists on "helping," which consists largely of standing in one place and bonding with his new best friend, "Hosey"), and yesterday the grass started taking on that teal-ish cast that signals when it's about to turn yellow and blow away. I caught up on the watering during M. Small's naps this weekend, and brought it back, but unless we get some serious rain soon I'm only postponing the inevitable.
That's not why I say we desperately need rain, though.
M. Small's very most favoritest thing to do outside is playing with sidewalk chalk. He got off to kind of a slow start, but now he's really discovering his artistic vision. Basically anything outside the house is fair game for him to scribble on, aside from the house itself, on the theory that it'll all wash away with the next rain.
Which, in case you hadn't already gathered, we desperately need.
Marks he made three weeks ago are still there. So are the marks he made today, and the marks he made during every one of the intervening days. Our deck, deck railing, deck box, deck furniture, patio, patio furniture, tree bench, and many of his outdoor toys now look like a New York subway station on the turf of a very short gang, or like if Jackson Pollock only worked in pastels. And actually, I'm exaggerating when I say that all of the marks from three weeks ago are still there. Many of them have at least partially wiped off onto his clothes, hitching a ride into the house. Where it rains even less frequently.
It's not that we mind the mess; we know it's transitory, and if we really wanted to get rid of it we could just hose it all down. Maybe we should do that anyway. M. Small has become so desperate for a blank canvas that he's taken to "tagging" the sidewalk at intervals on the way to the park. But we don't know how he'd react to having his work so abruptly and deliberately washed away, especially by a trusted friend like Hosey.
* * *
Trash and I aren't keeping a list any more of the words M. Small knows. They have become too numerous to keep track of. Besides, he's getting to be such a good mimic that it's hard to tell which words he actually understands and which ones he can only parrot back without understanding their meaning.
A few things are clear, though. For instance, the other day we were out on the deck with his sidewalk chalk and I wrote and pronounced the first initial of his name. And then he spelled the rest of his name out loud before I could finish. So of course I gave him a nice, long time-out for interrupting me. The nerve of that kid.
Sometimes he can also count to go. As in "one, two, three, go!" I can't for the life of me figure out where he got the idea that go comes after three, can you? posted by M. Giant 7:46 PM 4 comments
He's brillant. counting, spelling, chalk tagging. brillant.
I always like reading about what M. Small is up to. He's the same age as my niece in New Orleans, and between your blog and my brother's, I feel like I get a good couple updates a week. Mostly from you, but, hey. I'll take what I can get.
I must thank you for enriching my vocabulary today - I actually looked up "palimpsest"!
Is Small saying "palimpsest?" Because that would be AWESOME.