catching up with the kid

I was on J-minding duty tonight so Anna could teach. I'm glad to have some regularly-scheduled stretches of time with him: we already didn't see each other much, and then I've been busy and the custody schedule changed so he's with his dad for 5 days at a time.

The kid cracks me up.

"Huh, I'm getting married in seven weeks."
"You are? Oh, is it to Mama?"
"Yes, to Mama."
"Oh, good. I'm glad it's Mama."
"Yeah, I think we all are."

He has a sophisticated sense of humor, but if he was playing that conversation, he's miles ahead of where we think he is. Seems unlikely: he just forgets things.

Anyway, we had some lovely Lego time, then a seamless dinner through bedtime routine. It's after 9 PM and I have no idea if he's asleep: that's not my problem. But I left him tucked into bed with the lights off! My work is done.

Like most modern Westerners, I don't care much for poetry, but there are a few that stuck with me from my school days. This one is from Francis Darwin Cornford. (Don't worry, he's not famous.)

The Guitarist Tunes Up

With what attentive courtesy he bent
Over his instrument;
Not as a lordly conquerer who could
Command both wire and wood,
But as a man with a loved woman might,
Inquiring with delight
What slight essential things she had to say
Before they started, he and she, to play.