GRIZZLY PEAR
We spent the a day at the New Children’s Museum in San Diego, filled with cool installation pieces. The highlight is Whammock! by Toshiko Horiuchi MacAdam.
Last time we went was before the pandemic, when the boy was 18 months old. He’s now her age then. He took to this piece like a fish in water. Life took a long pause but kept moving regardless.
A few weeks ago, I got into a conversation about zines and d.w. sent me a couple! I printed out the emails with the kids to make the books.
A single sheet of paper, a few folds, one cut, and voila! an eight page book.
The kids delayed dinner so they could color their new zines.
Last week, we got a wooden mannequin at Ikea.
He lay straight in a plastic tube.
The kids called him RIP Mr. Little Wooden Guy.
Mama took him out of the cylindrical coffin.
He’s a stiff little fellow; his hips don’t rotate.
The kids danced with him around the house.
I bought someone to draw.
A figure who wouldn’t run away.
The kids gave him a little headband.
But I wanted someone who can do a full range of poses.
A mannequin who could do the Eight Brocades.
The kids hinted that Mr. Little Wooden Guy would love to have a friend.
The boy’s craft table had a ribbon of markers in holders of toilet paper rolls. Mama glued them together in groups of four and six. It’s a nice modular system that the kids decorated with markers.
The kids created their own “little house” inside the playroom. The fluorescent green circles are teleportation stations between rooms. They debated about making this an amusement park but chose a domestic setting.
I found this odd little installation in the powder room.
If I thought about it longer, maybe I could decipher the message.
One little cloud caught the last rays of the sunset after its neighbors had gone grey. It was a brilliant orange that quickly faded into the background.
In May, we came out of our hyper-cautious shell and started doing indoor activities like shopping with the kids. On my birthday, they insisted on getting a stuffie at IKEA even though my wife isn’t fond of these dust bunnies. She also insisted on having this little gal cool off for a few weeks. We finally brought her in in June.
At first the boy wanted to call her “Claire Elephant” because he’s obsessed naming everything after his imaginary little sister Claire. He then proposed “Smalley”. Mama countered with “Mini”. After some debate, Mini won.
That evening they misplaced her in the messy playroom and we spent half an hour looking for her. When she woke up the next day, my daughter was not amused when she couldn’t find Mini in her safe place (because I borrowed her for the sketch).
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This moment of magic was inspired by recent newsletter, where Emily Charlotte Powell shares her in-progress drawing of a mermaid-yet-to-be-named.
My sister and I toyed with this PortaSound PSS-460 as kids.
The kids now dance to the drum kit (max volume!)
In between, it sat in our empty house;
While we stayed with parents when he was born.
A squatter took over one Thanksgiving —
A young blond woman with a ponytail.
She quietly left with her black backpack.
I found the keyboard on a dresser, plugged in.
I occasionally wonder about her,
Plinking tunes on this toy Yamaha over a cold, dark holiday.
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This memory of everyday magic was sparked by a beautiful poem and rendition by Nadia Gerassimenko.
The kids were intrigued by the lychee shells that mama peeled for an after dinner snack. We filled up a bowl to float little pink boats. A miniature ocean for little folks.