As the Saying Goes...
As the saying goes, he can't see the tree for the forest.
Not I, my friends. All I see are trees. Trees, left. Trees, right. Hardwood, softwood... you name it. And just like people who claim to have been abducted by aliens and tell the story so often that they begin to believe it, I can even make myself believe that the forest doesn't exist.
Back it up. What I mean to say is that some days, I have trouble with watching Margo grow. But I love, truly love, watching her pick up a new thing, which brings me to something that she picked up 3 or 4 weeks ago.
The fool looks at the finger that points skyward.
I haven't spent a lot of time with babies, other than Margo, but I have spent time with dogs. I always love how when you point at something, most dogs will look at the tip of your finger, expecting magic to come out. And by saying this, I'm giving most dogs far too much credit; most dogs are secretly hoping that food will come out of your finger. Cats ignore fingers altogether because it's not about them anymore.
Margo used to stare at my skyward-pointed finger. And then one day, she started staring at where I was pointing. I can't pin-point when it started, but it still amazes me that she has started abstract reasoning, that if she follows the trajectory that my finger is making, she's going to be rewarded by something visually.
And you know what? I realize that it's pretty small. It's not a forest. It's just a tree. But if you were to choose to see just one tree in a forest, the tree of abstract reasoning is a pretty good tree to pick. That, and I'm not ready to see the forest.
I've been getting really nice treats on work nights. Margo will beam a huge smile at me when I walk in from work. Apparently, one evening when I tried to shovel a little snow before coming in, Donna pointed me out to her (see, the pointing thing does come in handy), and even through the window, a dozen metres away, she started getting excited. How can you not love that kind of attention coming home from work? And it's nice, too, because the down side to the sleep routine that see's her in bed somewhere around 7:00, 7:30, is that I get an hour-and-a-half or so with her on weekdays, and close to half of it, she's getting tired, difficult, and though I'm not sure that I know how to spell beligerant, I'll use the word German word, "fußenkrankyhosen."
It's getting late. I'm getting a little fußenkrankyhosen myself. Goodnight. Keep pointing skyward... it's the best way we have to weed out the fools. And hungry dogs.
- Michel
Not I, my friends. All I see are trees. Trees, left. Trees, right. Hardwood, softwood... you name it. And just like people who claim to have been abducted by aliens and tell the story so often that they begin to believe it, I can even make myself believe that the forest doesn't exist.
Back it up. What I mean to say is that some days, I have trouble with watching Margo grow. But I love, truly love, watching her pick up a new thing, which brings me to something that she picked up 3 or 4 weeks ago.
The fool looks at the finger that points skyward.
I haven't spent a lot of time with babies, other than Margo, but I have spent time with dogs. I always love how when you point at something, most dogs will look at the tip of your finger, expecting magic to come out. And by saying this, I'm giving most dogs far too much credit; most dogs are secretly hoping that food will come out of your finger. Cats ignore fingers altogether because it's not about them anymore.
Margo used to stare at my skyward-pointed finger. And then one day, she started staring at where I was pointing. I can't pin-point when it started, but it still amazes me that she has started abstract reasoning, that if she follows the trajectory that my finger is making, she's going to be rewarded by something visually.
And you know what? I realize that it's pretty small. It's not a forest. It's just a tree. But if you were to choose to see just one tree in a forest, the tree of abstract reasoning is a pretty good tree to pick. That, and I'm not ready to see the forest.
I've been getting really nice treats on work nights. Margo will beam a huge smile at me when I walk in from work. Apparently, one evening when I tried to shovel a little snow before coming in, Donna pointed me out to her (see, the pointing thing does come in handy), and even through the window, a dozen metres away, she started getting excited. How can you not love that kind of attention coming home from work? And it's nice, too, because the down side to the sleep routine that see's her in bed somewhere around 7:00, 7:30, is that I get an hour-and-a-half or so with her on weekdays, and close to half of it, she's getting tired, difficult, and though I'm not sure that I know how to spell beligerant, I'll use the word German word, "fußenkrankyhosen."It's getting late. I'm getting a little fußenkrankyhosen myself. Goodnight. Keep pointing skyward... it's the best way we have to weed out the fools. And hungry dogs.
- Michel
This entry was posted
on Thursday, March 01, 2007 at 10:18 p.m..
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10:27 a.m.my new account name .. testing
10:28 a.m.
Tonton do you remember I used my monster name.
11:06 a.m.
Ah, yes, A-Na-Na, daughter of Val-Laur.
Man, the internet isn't safe anymore if Anana is on.
6:29 p.m.
I really like what you wrote here Michel.
I remember Paul saying I always look forward to coming home.
Someone else said,"It's who you come home to that makes it worthwhile.
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