milo, by rosa b.
Monday, August 8, 2011
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MODUS OPERANDI
waxing the dark side of the moon.
AN ELDER SIBLING
SibLINGS & REPROBATES
- adios lounge
- any major dude...
- dead, dead poet's society
- den o'sin
- doc 40
- dope city free press
- dope city second press
- dr. forrest's cheeze factory
- driving drunks and addicts around
- elohssanatahw
- for the sake of the song
- fusion 45
- gentlebear
- ghetto raga | third ear band
- hell in a kiss
- hot dog fingers
- how marvellous
- i heart noise
- jojofiles
- jonderblog
- la dimension de trastos
- last days of man on earth
- manchester liberal
- miami vision blogorama!
- moon in the gutter
- nØthin' sez somethin'
- one base on an overthrow
- phronesisaical
- planet mondo
- poop in the pipes
- radio shirley
- rock scissors gun
- rock town hall
- savage eyes
- scorp10n bowl
- spit out your gum
- stoner party
- swan fungus
- the cabinet of the solar plexus
- the devil's music
- the gazetteer
- the rising storm
- underneathica
- what's all this, then?
JURISPRUDENCE
out there
MAXIMUM SECURITY
freely distributed music
CONDENSED SOUP
HARD COPY
something's cooking
SibLING WHISPERS
the vandals stole the handles
9 comments:
Rosa - Stunning shot!
Both of you - stunning child !
He has just learned to clap his hands on cue. He is inordinately proud of said accomplishment.
It was in his nature from very early on to reject all pacifiers in favour of the thumb. He is a hands-on kid.
Following yesterday's party line, I decided to about turn and forgo the bandit mask as accessory. The straw hat is vaguely cool. Some days a crumpled Sinatra affectation; others, the roadside Taco Vendor.
Farmer John on harmonica.
What a little doll!!!
I wish computers had "smell". I love smelling babies heads. I don't know why... but it is just something women do.
Hey!
Hello Milo
Enya is also clapping hands and blethering in her wee language!
Well hello, Milo! He's a handsome fellow, and he looks quite sturdy. Mmmm, the smell of a baby's head! The pleasure is not unknown to me. There is nothing quite like it, and I suspect I'm not the only father who enjoys it.
@eloh:
jonder has a valid point. It's an animal trait, surely ? As appealing to both mothers and fathers alike, I think.
Thank you both. He's a sturdy doll.
Löst Jimmy:
Hey, man. A few weeks ago we were in the Botanic Gardens on a Friday afternoon.
"Enya!" I heard one father encouraging his infant. Surely not ? I wondered.
Curiously, too, somebody walked by on the path behind us calling to a stray toddler in a Breton shirt.
"Milo!" the voice rang.
This unlikely coincidence prevented me from - very probably - making a complete idiot of myself. Slouching over to enquire, "Löst Jimmy, I presume ?"
The chattering is something I never tire of. Well. Most of the time. It certainly beats the hell out of the squealing which, thankfully, seems to have been a fleeting stage; wild yelling tearing out the cot at 5 AM, while the foxes make off with baby seagulls between their teeth. And scavenge in the bins.
Good to hear from you. Say hi to Enya.
ib - not me and Enya unfortunately, but one day soon I hope to be back down the road to Glasgow.
Enya is at a disgruntled stage at the moment - teething.
:0 he's beautiful!
Löst Jimmy:
Well. Glad then, that I didn't introduce myself to some wincing complete stranger.
Milo has been teething too. Both cut on the bottom row. Little serrated dragon pincers, but not the attendandant breath. Gurning and howling occasionally.
JM:
Thank you. I don't believe we've 'met'. On the bleachers. Elsewhere.
All babies are beautiful of course. It's the knowing where they have come from, the guessing where they might go, which fuels the heartache.
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