Tadhg has dominated any freeze-frame I share for a while, not because Pippin isn't awfully funny and sweet but simply because his language was less sophisticated.
But, oh boy, I think he'll play a powerful game of catch-up for the rest of his life.
I don't know how many times I've wished I could remember all the snatches of our ordinary days that strike me--the hysterically funny ones, the poignant and tender ones. The simple things. But there are too many, and humans aren't made for keeping in such a stranglehold of memory anyway.
But on occasion, time and memory cross paths serendipitously and I remember to write down just such a snatch.
Given the recent happenings in these parts, Pippin has become increasingly conscious of the presence of modern medicine in our lives. Yesterday he scraped a finger while playing outside. I put a (purple, as requested) bandaid on the wound before sending him off again. Walking by me later, he said matter-of-factly, "I might need new finger. From doctor 'pointment. They might grab new fingers for me."
Earlier in the day as he was lamenting a particularly painful and recurrent lost comfort, a side effect of his increasing age, he pathetically cried with crocodile tears coursing down his cheeks, "I want to grow down!"
Don't we all, my Pip?
At least sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment