Yeah, well I’m taller.

Currently I am still taller than my son. But my days are numbered I’m fairly certain.

I took this picture yesterday:

Frowny dude.

I took these ones two years ago in July:

Gosh, he’s getting tall.

In drawing class last fall we had an assignment to create a drawing using at least three figures in a narrative. We were encouraged, but not required, to use a comic strip sort of layout or at least idea for moving the story along.

So I took a few of my pictures from swim lessons last summer…

and used them to put together something of a montage of Child C at swimming.

I’m not really all that comfortable with realism, so I traced and transferred the figures onto my paper. My instructor liked the nostalgic, old picture feeling I ended up with. He preferred it without the yellowy background. Then he delved deeper into the picture to find that it seemed like a study in the ephemeral nature of youth. Described here by the interminal waiting, the preparing, poised just on on the precipice, and then, whoosh, they’re gone.

This was not what I was thinking of when I was making this piece and nearly made me cry in class. Jerk.

Anyway, I felt like these pictures of the progress of  Child C as he grows taller (he can now just grab stuff out of that top cabinet!) and moves through time toward his  own big splash had the same feeling of trying to capture a moment in time before it gets away from you.

Or grows taller than you. 😀

Six Word Friday: Grow

those who are in the know

today sow…….

………..so tomorrow’s flowers grow

link to submit cards and poems and such to hallmark: http://www.hallmarkcontests.com/

Got Jokes?

C: Do you know how Flo Rida got his name?
B: No, how?
C: He used to be a dental rapper!
B: ?
C: Flouride.

~*~

C: What would Garfield’s name be if he was a paper?
B: A paper? I don’t know.
C: Garfold.

Kids and their jargon.

This morning my son asked me to come outside and help him move a couple of tires that he was using to build his fort. Somehow that morphed into me carrying a couple TONS of cinder blocks. And wood. And tires. And a log.

At one point, when I was bent over resting before picking up a good sized cement paver stone, he says, “This is some good, quality time.”

I wonder where he heard that from? Although it’s probably everywhere, school, TV, everywhere.

A couple minutes later he asked me if I liked helping him like this. I said I don’t mind helping you, but these things are getting heavy!

We soldiered on and eventually achieved fortage.

defending the fortress with sword and shield