The inspiration for this post came from a comment
from my friend,
NoRegrets who said that we all have
an "inner sculptor".
Which brought up an old memory of my first born,
Boo,
who was a very young sculptor.
At the time I was driving two newspaper routes
in southern Oregon,
for The Mail Tribune, Wall Street Journal and San Francisco Chronicle
and
The Oregonian.
This job allowed me to buckle Boo into his Bobby Mac Car Seat
(before the days of a law telling us to do so)
and drive all night...
flinging papers out or over the top of my car,
stuffing boxes or filling machines.
Boo slept most of the drive
and I didn't have to pay for a sitter.
The sort of things we do to save money when we first start families.
He looked like a small blond angel
in my rear view mirror.
After the last paper was thrown,
I'd take my sleeping cherub and lay him in his crib
so that I could catch a few hours of sleep.
But as a precaution,
we set his portable crib near the floor level
and dropped the side open.
No more monkeys falling off the bed!
We also added a screen door to his room
that I could lock from the outside.
I didn't want him to fall out
and I really didn't want him to get up and wander before I noticed.
The idea of that scared me.
His room was baby proofed and it was like a large play pen.
Not that I intended to sleep the day away while he was left to his own devices.
My husband was leaving for work as I was getting home.
5:00 AM
After driving all night,
it would be 9 to 10 hours before he could return to watch the baby.
I was being realistic
and covering all the bases.
One morning I woke on my sofa to giggling.
I smiled and sort of dozed in and out for a few precious moments with an open ear as he played in his room.
Boo liked to stand at the window and watch the kids walk to school.
"Hi! Hi!"
he'd yell and pat on the window.
The kids would laugh and wave back.
When I stirred my lazy butt off the couch
and went to look in on him...
I found a curious set of objects
that he was moving around like toy animals.
When he had fallen asleep,
he was in a set of overalls... the kind with a snap crotch.
I wasn't going to wake him just to change him into jammies.
The legs now flapped around his legs
like a dress.
Fuzzy headed,
I looked more closely at my son's chubby hands
and his "animal friends" in them.
They were a funny sort of yellowish brown.
GACK!
My angel had made a set of poop friends.
I probably don't need to say that this woke me up completely.
Or that I immediately cleaned him and his room up.
Poop sculpture is a messy medium.
Boo was about 10 months old at this point.
Just walking well.
The creativity bug bit him early.
I suppose that is true of most of us,
when left to create without the rules of life
getting in the way.
It was the method that shocked me.
But his play truly was creative for his age.
I felt bad when I had to flush his friends.
from my friend,
NoRegrets who said that we all have
an "inner sculptor".
Which brought up an old memory of my first born,
Boo,
who was a very young sculptor.
At the time I was driving two newspaper routes
in southern Oregon,
for The Mail Tribune, Wall Street Journal and San Francisco Chronicle
and
The Oregonian.
This job allowed me to buckle Boo into his Bobby Mac Car Seat
(before the days of a law telling us to do so)
and drive all night...
flinging papers out or over the top of my car,
stuffing boxes or filling machines.
Boo slept most of the drive
and I didn't have to pay for a sitter.
The sort of things we do to save money when we first start families.
He looked like a small blond angel
in my rear view mirror.
After the last paper was thrown,
I'd take my sleeping cherub and lay him in his crib
so that I could catch a few hours of sleep.
But as a precaution,
we set his portable crib near the floor level
and dropped the side open.
No more monkeys falling off the bed!
We also added a screen door to his room
that I could lock from the outside.
I didn't want him to fall out
and I really didn't want him to get up and wander before I noticed.
The idea of that scared me.
His room was baby proofed and it was like a large play pen.
Not that I intended to sleep the day away while he was left to his own devices.
My husband was leaving for work as I was getting home.
5:00 AM
After driving all night,
it would be 9 to 10 hours before he could return to watch the baby.
I was being realistic
and covering all the bases.
One morning I woke on my sofa to giggling.
I smiled and sort of dozed in and out for a few precious moments with an open ear as he played in his room.
Boo liked to stand at the window and watch the kids walk to school.
"Hi! Hi!"
he'd yell and pat on the window.
The kids would laugh and wave back.
When I stirred my lazy butt off the couch
and went to look in on him...
I found a curious set of objects
that he was moving around like toy animals.
When he had fallen asleep,
he was in a set of overalls... the kind with a snap crotch.
I wasn't going to wake him just to change him into jammies.
The legs now flapped around his legs
like a dress.
Fuzzy headed,
I looked more closely at my son's chubby hands
and his "animal friends" in them.
They were a funny sort of yellowish brown.
GACK!
My angel had made a set of poop friends.
I probably don't need to say that this woke me up completely.
Or that I immediately cleaned him and his room up.
Poop sculpture is a messy medium.
Boo was about 10 months old at this point.
Just walking well.
The creativity bug bit him early.
I suppose that is true of most of us,
when left to create without the rules of life
getting in the way.
It was the method that shocked me.
But his play truly was creative for his age.
I felt bad when I had to flush his friends.
* * * * *
As a funny aside...
I was on a blog called "Debbie Does Britain".
Her writing is delightfully funny.
I wanted to leave a comment...
but the comment wouldn't work.
I tried an email,
but that did not work either.
Sometimes I can be inept.
Blogger sent me to a thing saying I needed to join
to leave a comment.
So I followed the directions...
only to find out that I had joined my own
blog.
Guess I didn't get that one right either.
=:/
But hey, I've got 8 Followers now!
As a funny aside...
I was on a blog called "Debbie Does Britain".
Her writing is delightfully funny.
I wanted to leave a comment...
but the comment wouldn't work.
I tried an email,
but that did not work either.
Sometimes I can be inept.
Blogger sent me to a thing saying I needed to join
to leave a comment.
So I followed the directions...
only to find out that I had joined my own
blog.
Guess I didn't get that one right either.
=:/
But hey, I've got 8 Followers now!
