Wildflower smeller claims sole credit for birth. Did Not! Did So!
Here in the middle of the California winter it is an ideal time to pick wild flowers. These floral wonders have evolved to spring into bloom as soon as a bit of rain arrives. Here ‘winter’ is the rainy season and, while we haven’t had much rain, we have had a little. The meadow in the park across from the Mission is full of green grass and wild flowers. It is a ..
“… great place for Tiger to walk,” I explained to Nazy. “He likes to stroll through the park and pick flowers for you.”
Tiger not only likes wildflowers, he likes all kinds of flowers. He loves to smell the roses (and tulips, daffodils, Iris, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, orchids, lilies, protea&hellip
at the market. He’s not daunted by obstacles like a stuffy nose or scentless flowers. Of course, it is important to keep this in context. Flowers are good, but his Matchbox© and Hot Wheel™ collections are also very, very important and exciting.
“Mommy has a little baby in her tummy,” Nazy retorted to Tiger and me. (In Farsi.)
“Speak English so the child can understand you,” I mumbled.
“Na, Na, Na,” Tiger replied. “Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” Tiger thought.
Accordingly, we were hoping that a high resolution sonar photo of the new baby would settle the issue for Tiger. Unfortunately, the new baby did not go out of its way to cooperate.
“What do you mean it’s turned its back on us?” I asked while we viewed a high resolution scan of a rib cage and a small beating heart.
Tiger, was quiet and mesmerized — until the doctor turned on the sound. Tiger did not like to hear the reverberating sound of the amplified heart beat.
“Out!” He demanded.
I took him outside while the remainder of the scan took place. We got to the waiting room, but that wasn’t far enough ‘out’ for Tiger. Like Elvis, we ‘left the building’ and began walking along the sidewalk.
“Thank God!” Tiger thought as we strolled along on a sunny day. “Outside! Tiger go outside!” He said.
Convinced that he hadn’t grasped the situation, I explained it again.
“… and when you were very little, you were in Mommy’s tummy, too,” I concluded.
“Came out.” Tiger responded.
“Eh..”
“I came out!” Tiger insisted. Accurately.
“That’s right,” I replied. “You came out. But Mommy helped in the process.”
“I did it.” Tiger replied.
Interestingly, my discussions with a (sub) two year old mesh well with time spent watching the Republican Presidential Buffoons ‘debate’. It reminds me of the scintillating conversational deployment wit of pre-teens:
“Are so!” (Says Cruz.)
“Am not!” (Says Trump.)
“Are so!” (Says Rubio.)
“Am not!” (Says Trump.)
… and so forth.
This week, the Santa Barbara Newcomers Club had a Western BBQ at the local carriage museum. It was important to wear a suitable costume.
“I don’t need a costume, Nazy.” I explained. “I have a lot of cowboy hats, cowboy boots and a cool western vest. I am set.”
“I was hoping that we could go as a couple. We can borrow Melika and Tom’s horse outfit.”
“They’re doing line dancing, Nazy. It won’t be possible to dance in that costume.” I replied. “I won’t even be able to eat barbecue in that costume,” I thought.
“Everyone would talk about us if we came as horses.”
“You’re absolutely right about that,” I thought. “Great idea, my dear, but I can’t drive the car in that outfit.”
In the end, we settled on borrowing a couple of western shirts and scarves from Tom and Mel.
Next week, compliments of Melika and Tom, Nazy and I will be taking our first ever cruise. We’re going from Los Angeles to Mexico. Looking forward.
“… great place for Tiger to walk,” I explained to Nazy. “He likes to stroll through the park and pick flowers for you.”
Tiger not only likes wildflowers, he likes all kinds of flowers. He loves to smell the roses (and tulips, daffodils, Iris, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, orchids, lilies, protea&hellip
at the market. He’s not daunted by obstacles like a stuffy nose or scentless flowers. Of course, it is important to keep this in context. Flowers are good, but his Matchbox© and Hot Wheel™ collections are also very, very important and exciting.
Speaking of excitement, this week Tom, Melika and Tiger went to the physicians office for the high resolution ultra scan of the baby scheduled for an early July delivery.
Although his parents and grandparents have told him: “Mommy has a baby in her tummy”, heretoforeTiger has been..
“Skeptical, Nazy.” I claimed. “I don’t think he buys it.”
“Mommy has a little baby in her tummy,” Nazy retorted to Tiger and me. (In Farsi.)
“Speak English so the child can understand you,” I mumbled.
“Na, Na, Na,” Tiger replied. “Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” Tiger thought.
Accordingly, we were hoping that a high resolution sonar photo of the new baby would settle the issue for Tiger. Unfortunately, the new baby did not go out of its way to cooperate.
“What do you mean it’s turned its back on us?” I asked while we viewed a high resolution scan of a rib cage and a small beating heart.
Tiger, was quiet and mesmerized — until the doctor turned on the sound. Tiger did not like to hear the reverberating sound of the amplified heart beat.
“Out!” He demanded.
I took him outside while the remainder of the scan took place. We got to the waiting room, but that wasn’t far enough ‘out’ for Tiger. Like Elvis, we ‘left the building’ and began walking along the sidewalk.
“Thank God!” Tiger thought as we strolled along on a sunny day. “Outside! Tiger go outside!” He said.
Convinced that he hadn’t grasped the situation, I explained it again.
“… and when you were very little, you were in Mommy’s tummy, too,” I concluded.
“Came out.” Tiger responded.
“Eh..”
“I came out!” Tiger insisted. Accurately.
“That’s right,” I replied. “You came out. But Mommy helped in the process.”
“I did it.” Tiger replied.
Interestingly, my discussions with a (sub) two year old mesh well with time spent watching the Republican Presidential Buffoons ‘debate’. It reminds me of the scintillating conversational deployment wit of pre-teens:
“Are so!” (Says Cruz.)
“Am not!” (Says Trump.)
“Are so!” (Says Rubio.)
“Am not!” (Says Trump.)
… and so forth.
This week, the Santa Barbara Newcomers Club had a Western BBQ at the local carriage museum. It was important to wear a suitable costume.
“I don’t need a costume, Nazy.” I explained. “I have a lot of cowboy hats, cowboy boots and a cool western vest. I am set.”
“I was hoping that we could go as a couple. We can borrow Melika and Tom’s horse outfit.”
“They’re doing line dancing, Nazy. It won’t be possible to dance in that costume.” I replied. “I won’t even be able to eat barbecue in that costume,” I thought.
“Everyone would talk about us if we came as horses.”
“You’re absolutely right about that,” I thought. “Great idea, my dear, but I can’t drive the car in that outfit.”
In the end, we settled on borrowing a couple of western shirts and scarves from Tom and Mel.
Next week, compliments of Melika and Tom, Nazy and I will be taking our first ever cruise. We’re going from Los Angeles to Mexico. Looking forward.
For last week's letter, click here
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