Yesterday, I was sitting at the dining room table playing with Play-Doh [the kids were playing too], when Samson, apropos of nothing, asked me the following:
"Isn't jumping just like falling up?"
I still have no idea how to answer that question.
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About Me
- dada
- Call me dada. This has, in the few months since my son started "talking," become my name. I'm sure (at least I hope) it will eventually morph into something less early 20th century art movementy --- but I am marked forever as dada. And this is a good thing. I have no real advice to offer, other than always carry Cheerios and extra onesies, and I don't really have a lot of 'wacky' adventures to regale you with. Truth be told, this is as much for me as it is for you. So, uh, thanks for stopping by. I hope it's at least an interesting time-killer. And if not, consider this an ironic exercise in skewering the bourgeouis notions of 21st century American parenthood by deconstructing the materialist ethos that has turned childhood into a demographic and rendered adults simultaneous enablers and slaves. Or something.
2 comments:
I wouldn't be concerned until he starts phrasing these enlightenments in Yoda-like statements - "Falling up jumping is."
I know it may seem to be a bit early, but I believe you have to start him on the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The book explains flying as falling off a ladder and not hitting the floor. Not to far away from Samson's reasoning.
Nana
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