Shall we say, this boy is FUN LOVING?
I should remember to tell him about his great-grandfather, who had fifteen children. He entertained them all with magic tricks like balancing a ladder or a dining room chair on his chin or forehead. He would pull coins out of ears, pull countless pranks and practical jokes. He was also an artist who carved intricate roses into glass ashtrays that he stacked and drilled and transformed into gorgeous lamps. He loved games. He loved to win. He swallowed life whole. One year he found a goat in the streets of Detroit. He took the goat to the police station and tied it up with some crazy letter attached to it. The police thought his prank was so funny that they put a police hat and jacket on the goat, took a picture and sent it to the local paper.
So, Elliot does't know this, but silliness is a trait he's inherited.
I have a little of this in me too.
This morning, Elliot said I was a "rhymer." While considering this, I stopped in the middle of the stairway, turned around and worked out a poem as if lightning had just struck. Poets and writers should always keep a white board handy for these moments...
Here's what fell out:
The Weimaraner was a rhymer
an old-timer with a shiner
paws digging like a miner
for bones and treasures finer
long-dead and rotting slimer
life organic sleeping primer
for the young to grow inside her
seeds of earth for branching climber.
After that nonsense, we played football in the house with a fresh clean soft roll of toilet paper.
My son is growing fast, and so it's great to know that his playful nature is still alive and kicking.
|Elliot has joined a First Lego League Robotics League! Making what he loves and translating that into complex learning.|