One and a bit

In which our Hero is granted the serenity to accept the things he cannot change, the strength to not snicker at the silly things said, and a long pointless meeting to give him time to focus on more important things

Today was almost peaceful, despite the return of a leader I can’t think of a better name than Ahab. He’s been on a vacation for 2 weeks which has coincided with two of the most productive weeks I’ve had in probably this whole year. Impressed people which what I’d managed to manufacture in the brief time I’d been given to charge the impossible.

This isn’t a Boring Work Entry, Gentle Reader, you need not click away (just yet), because honestly, what I want to write about was the visitors on the weekend. Two families popped by, or perhaps one invited themselves and another was drawn into a visit since we were already entertaining. Which suddenly put the house under siege with 3 children under 6 and another who was 10.

I’m not really equipped for entertaining small children, except by my direct attention. For whatever reason, that attention is held somewhat in reserve, and I mostly just watch the kids to make sure they’re not playing too close to a corner or ledge, or else I just look for ways to mess with their reality that tiny bit. But I don’t engage, partly because most of this younger generation has an army of more proximate elders to idolize, and I think a little to not feel disappointed and aged by their diminished interest in me.

But once in a while, despite the increase in generational divide and sometimes irrespective of actual relation, one or another of the little ones catches my attention. A visiting baby came scuttling to me on first site. And with our vistors, I had the odd experience of a 1 year old who did not want to play with me, but felt very strongly that I should watch her as she played by herself. If I turned to talk to someone else, Iso’d be close, singsonging, “Uncle-ay” in a half-english/half-not structure isn’t wrong except for it being more of the language than I’ve got. Once I turned back, she’d cross the room to play some more.

Her sister, four, has transmuted in seemingly less than a month, from bob-cut baby speaking the language of our parents’ homeland to a raven-tressed, english-best, lady. Well, insofar as a 4-year-old can pull off “lady;” she sat still a short while, captivated a few minutes by Toy Story 2, before doing in inchworm climb over the side of the unoccupied recliner.

The other two kids were older, and I don’t have all that much of a relationship with either of them. The younger one is antisocial in general, except with her sister and other people she deigns momentarily worthy. The older one, the 10 year old, got bored and followed me to the basement, where the cases of my scifi collection stand. At her request I tried to find her something to read, but I know that I was advanced for my age and I know that speculative fiction is not a universal taste. Which meant it took some time before I could find a young adult novel that was appropriate to age.

She read a little bit, but then, to my very great surprise, handed the book back to me, because “I got to chapter 2 and now it’s getting complicated.” A second try with Tom Sawyer, and a third try with something else failed as well. All of which were too “complicated.”

I was shocked to the point of having difficulty hiding it. I feel a degree of worry for the little girl, because it could be that it’s just too far out of her taste or too strange or too something, but.. complicated? What a strange objection.

We talked a little more, and she also told me that her eyes hurt sometimes when she reads, but when I probed, she’s already told her parents, and they’ve already taken her to a doctor. She’s deeply unhappy at the thought of wearing glasses, and I tried to reassure her that it’s actually not so bad as she thinks.

And no, Dallandrah, I didn’t offer her Eyes like Stars. It’d likely have been more to her taste, but after the way she mashed the other books open, she doesn’t get to touch my good stuff.

Sometime I should complain about work. But not today. Today I sleep.