Still a kid

He may be puzzling over the origins of the universe, but Uta is still very much a kid, for today. He still grabs a toy and stuffs it in his pocket before leaving the house. He thinks an empty cardboard box is a starship and protests when I want to collapse it for recycling. He says “No pleasure, my problem,” when he wants to be a gentleman. He announces when he needs to poop and then proceeds to take off every stitch of clothing. When he wants to look extra cool he dresses in red from head to toe. He sleeps with a stuffed cow and two soft monsters. He still lets me kiss him any time I want and swears he will live with me forever.

Spring Break

Uta is home. And consequently the predictable rhythms of Kizuki’s days are shattered. Naps? Ha! Uta thinks keeping quiet so that I can get the baby to sleep means peeking over my shoulder with a big blazing smile and an artillery of really pressing questions that just can’t possibly wait. Kiki thinks Uta is the funniest guy around, she laughs and squeaks with delight at his interruptions. The hope of a nap instantly flickers out like a flame in the toilet. What now Uta, what?

“Where did people come from? And the earth? If it all came from nothing, where did the nothing come from? How does the nothing end and the something begin? If it all came from God, then who made God? If the earth came from dust, where did the dust come from?”

This line of questioning goes on and on and on. I never have an opening to answer even one question, thankfully, before the next is fired at me. This is going to be a very long vacation. Any theories on the origins of EVERYTHING greatly appreciated. I personally like not knowing. Uta, however, he’s going to get to the bottom of the mystery of life once and for all.

Pockets

I just emptied Uta's pockets, prior to throwing his favorite jeans and sweatshirt into the wash.

This is what I found:

One pencil, one eraser nub, fifty-three cents, five twist ties, one screw, two magnetic darts, various Lego mini figure parts, three unidentifiable pieces of junk, a paper spiral, and about fifty broken and splintered coffee stirrers.

Irish Eyes

Well...

1/4 Irish eyes.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Bounce!

Street find

I'm definitely a fan of street finds. One man's trash.... as the saying goes. Our apartment is already sprinkled with rescues from the curb. So it is no surprise that Uta too likes to scavenge. He fell in love with this chair, left out on the sidewalk with the trash, and begged and pleaded, nearly in tears, to be allowed to take it home. I agreed as long as I did not have to assist him. I was already weighted down with more than my fair share of things (and people!) to carry. So Uta carted this chair, which he simply could not go on living without, from Second Avenue in Manhattan to our second floor apartment in Queens. It came in very convenient when waiting for the train, and on the train when he couldn't find a seat. And now it sits in our kitchen, squeakier and creakier than any other chair on earth, I'm sure. It may get a coat of paint soon, Uta is thinking gold, I'll keep you posted.

At the Table

And eating too! Rice cereal and oatmeal she eats with gusto; two hands around the spoon and eagerly pulling it into her mouth. Bananas she tolerates, but grimaces with every bite. Sweet potatoes have been flat out rejected.