Thursday November 7th, 2013

The exercise:

Write about: sons.

Or just one son, if that works better for you. I know it does for me. I'm actually just copying something I wrote on Facebook earlier today, which feels a little lazy. But at least you guys get the first look at the picture I'm sharing below - Facebook friends won't be seeing that until tomorrow at the earliest!

I'd say Max's first birthday was a good one. We had Kat's parents down to our place for dinner and he definitely enjoyed that. Kat baked him a gluten and dairy free cake that had sweet potato icing that turned out very nicely. There were also many presents opened, several of which were very obvious hits.

One of his favorites, of course, was not a toy at all:


That's my boy.

Mine:

Max Ethan Jay,
What could I possibly say
To capture a year
So filled with hope, love, fear?

There was fun and games,
More firsts than I can name;
Scares that brought prayers,
And laughs that drew stares.

Diapers needed changing,
Lives rearranging.
There were drums to bang
While you grew your fangs.

And through it all
We (mostly) had a ball.
But this is a special day,
On which I must say:

Today you are turning one,
So have a happy birthday son.

6 comments:

Greg said...

That's a very nice poem for a very lucky boy! I hope he looks back some years from now and can appreciate what you wrote for him. From how he's sat in that box in the picture though... I reckon you've got an F1 racing driver on your hands :)
(Oh, and fangs?)
Happy Birthday Max!

Sons
They had a map of the universe painted on the inside of an old tin lunchbox, and from time to time one or the other of them would open it up and peer at intently. Now and then their heads would dip together as they quietly discussed something, and then they'd set off again. They walked steadily, at a very maintainable pace, seemingly sure that they were going in the rigth direction.
The first time they stopped and argued was at the Painted Rock, where Big Kangaroo lost a battle of wits to the Wallaby.
"You remind me of our mother!" was the only phrase to come clearly across the heat-hazed, dusty air, but there was venom in it. The dream-time shuddered to hear it, and the Sleeping Men picked themselves up and loped softly across the red sand to another patch.
The second argument was hours later and miles away, when they stood in the shadow of the baobab trees and ignored the snakes hanging from the branches.
"Mother-suckler!" floated on the air this time, and the snakes retreated, recognising bitter poison.
They split up and went their separate ways at the third argument, and it surprised no-one that it happened in the Sons' Grove where the stones moved like turtles and spiders the size of sheep burrowed into the ground to get away from them.
And everyone was grateful that the Sons had parted company before they tore up the dream-time.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, we want to save all sorts of things for him to look at when he's old enough to (maybe) appreciate them.

And the way he races around already that would not surprise me in the least.

The fangs line was a reference to his eye teeth coming in before his two upper middle teeth. He was definitely going to be a vampire for Halloween... until the middle two finally came in.

This is a fascinating vignette. I'd love to learn more about these two!

writebite said...

marc, yeah, your prompts have echoed the powerful goings-on in my life of late, yet again.
it's good to be back, my block is over!


sons

your blue eyes opened,
squinting against the light
of the delivery room

your hair was fine
with a touch of ginger
which became blond

now you're a man
with a mo for Mo-vember
- it's a charity thing

you look all buff
the gym work sure suits you
the effort's paid off

and I lay here, waiting
for news, my son,
of you becoming a father

tonight...

Marc said...

Writebite - good to have you back :)

Oh, and best of luck to your son and his family! Do share when the good news arrives :D

writebite said...

not arrived yet, false alarm!

Sons and Grand ones... (this one's funny...)

One day Gaga was minding you and you wanted to play with the Operation game. He said, "Ok, but don't be naughty and throw all the pieces around because then we won't play it. So, are you going to be naughty?" and you answered, "Um, I think I might be naughty." It was hard to remain serious after that one but later on you said you'd be good so you got to play it. Next time it was Oma's turn to mind you. You had your phone and rang up your imaginary friend PoohPooh and let me talk to him, but when I said he was busy moving boxes, you got annoyed and said I was naughty! Apparently, only you can make up stories about your imaginary friend! Then we went outside. You picked up a dead flower and asked why did it look like that, so I explained, after many "whys" (yes, it has begun), that the sun made the flower hot and so all the water inside it evaporated up into the sky. That was Physics 101. Then you picked up a seed pod we'd once painted but had scraped the paint off. You asked why there was still some paint left on it in the corner and why couldn't I scrape it off. Eventually we got down to some basic chemistry and I said, "Because the covalent bonds between the paint molecules and the seed pod surface are just strong enough to hold the paint to the surface of the pod." That got you!

Marc said...

Writebite - hah! Endless curiosity, endless questions... for a while, at least :)