Thursday, 13 January 2011

Dream big

Little man's big dream has been to drive big machines

He plays with toy earth-movers for hours on end. He pores over board books with detailed pictures of many, many heavy lifters. He can correctly distinguish between a regular roller and a double-drum compacter. He points out telescopic handlers and cold planers and hydraulic excavators when we pass road works and building sites. He really, really loves machines.

On Thanksgiving, at Wolf Creek in Texas with Granddad Jim, his machine dream came true.

You know how you imagine when a kid gets what they always wanted they'll caper around and laugh and shout and get all excited? This was not like that at all. This was pure, steely focus. This was, "I have a job to learn, please let me concentrate."

He was the most seriously contented two-year-old ever.

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Small story

. .

My parents once had dinner guests who stayed a bit too long. They fixed that by dozing off right where they sat, on the couch, in the middle of conversation.  Both of them, accidentally and simultaneously. When they woke up, they had lost an hour of Saturday night, and the guests.

. .

Monday, 10 January 2011

Educator of the Year

Berry is being the student and Man-show is being the teacher. The classes he's offered so far: Leaf Blowers, Train Track, North Pole and Bartender.

That's some school....

. . .

Sunday, 9 January 2011

Thanksgiving {belated is understating it}

Thanksgiving in Wortham, Texas. Population 1107.  We made it about 1117, which definitely has a better ring to it.

Man-show managed two not-at-all-minor injuries during the road trip up there, but in the end he decided not to test the medical capabilities of very-small-town Texas.

And for that, I am deeply, deeply thankful. 


Friday, 7 January 2011

A little fox

I'm ashamed of how hopeless I've been at posting here.

Perhaps I can distract you with a picture of the latest Sweet Olive Press letterpress birth announcement?  I drew the little fox myself. I printed it myself. I really have nothing more to say for myself.

Maybe tomorrow...

. . .