How often have you wanted your camera when it was inaccessible?
How often have those moments occurred when you were on the toilet?
No, this isn't going to be a sophmoric essay about massive poo. No, not at all. What captured my desire to have a camera available was a small train that came zooming under the door as I sat "enthroned". It was followed by a small hand I knew to be attached to the larger of the two small people in my home. The moment provided the quintessential image of parenthood - constant, never-ending, unceasing attention. To everything. Coupled with an utter lack of privacy.
Anyway, the scene made me giggle, always a welcome event, and I regretted the lack of photographic equipment.
And, yeah, it's been a while - I'm not interested in dwelling on the matter.
Now he's even starting to do it with words, too. This evening, we were sitting in the office and he was playing with letter magnets. His set isn't that large so that after he spelled "CAT" and "MAT", he didn't have any more A's left. What he wanted to spell was "A cat on a mat." Here was his (phonetic) solution:
Brilliant little booger!
