Detective Lincoln at the theater

Writer/producer/actor in The Mystery of the Million Dollar Mugwump at the Depot Theater. 

fighting over Rosa Parks

These twins play. They also fight. Today they were outside in unseasonably warm weather doing both. I knew that the graphic biography we'd read last night about the life and grit of Rosa Parks had interested them, but still it surprised me when I heard the screaming and yelling drifting through the open back door:

"I ROSA PARKS.... NO. I ROSA PARKS!...NO YOU NOT! I ROSA PARKS!... NO! YOU NOT ROSA PARKS. YOU CAN'T BE ROSA PARKS! Ahhhhhhya ROSA PAAAAAARKS!!!" 

I looked outside to see that they had set up the school bus tent with a small stepladder inside and were fighting over which of them got to stand at the top and wave a stick in the air and declare their identification with the admired activist. At the moment I took this in, Orson was atop the ladder doing a very good impression of Ms. Parks' stubborn refusal to budge from her seat and Zephyr was trying her best to push him off. It was a very serious situation to them, and they seemed puzzled by my laughter as I intervened to avert injury. In the aftermath, as they settled down and resumed taking turns practicing stubborn boldness on the coveted perch, I sat on the grass and shot this briefly harmonious photograph. 

I can see that these two white, comfortable and young children don't understand the complexities of race and the civil rights movement at this age. Absent any but the most vague sense of its deep social/cultural/economic histories, racial difference is largely just optics to them. Children's books that simplify these complex topics are only ever comprehended against the backdrop of their very limited experience in the world, and it is hard enough right now to get them to fully grasp the concept of tomorrow let alone a construct like race.  But it occurs to me as I watch them play that these two really are at a perfect age to grasp the basic principals of Parks' activism.  The twins are already scarily adept at  fighting for their rights and comprehending wrongs. Their sense of fairness is so honed it often drives me nuts, as does their staunch refusal to follow any rules they deem insensible. Indeed, their truly unadulterated grasp of our common humanity seems the perfect foundation for understanding the crime of oppression. As I watch this made-up game I see two people honing skills that hopefully will help them better participate in the wide world their brains are steadily and increasingly taking in.

"wacky outfit" day

Today was wacky outfit day at preschool. Orson stated that he would wear the orange fairy skirt and wings. Zephyr  wanted to dress up like this.  I'm holding on fondly to these last years before this free range gender utopia starts to be complicated by all manner of normative pressures. It's good to be a kid. 

Happy Birthday b/Dad

comrades

Interacting

with contemporary art. Crouching under the Bourgeois spider; offering a counterpoint to this familiar representation of maternal ambivalence. Rolling about on a grey upholstered bench in a room full of etherial Agnes Martin work. They want to touch everything. They try to touch everything. The do not touch everything, to the relief of dozens of black-clad gallery attendants.  In this context it seems very strange, how nearly all of these objects strongly invite the very thing that the institutions that elevate them strictly prohibit. On the one hand I strongly support these prohibitions. I'd like these works to endure for others to enjoy. And John and I diligently curb the curious and destructive fingers of our three gleeful children. Except the one time Zephyr breaks free and runs smack into Untitled, c. 1959. Maybe on purpose.  And I'm horrified. And I angrily drag her out of there. And I think about the immense contempt we must invoke in museum staff--we desperate people who bring our children here. There must be so many meetings about what to do with us. (Besides, of course, dip into our wallets.) And yet--it seems a shame somehow. I wish there was a room of aging Sol Lewitt wall drawings smeared in grubby fingerprints.  A warehouse of Bourgeois sculptures bent and twisted and fully altered by little climbing arms and legs. Warhols you could stomp on. I think about the contrast between how I used to experience Untitled  c. 1959 and how I experienced it today. It's absurd. But we are drawn here now, to this museum, on a regular basis, by a portico full of Serra's torqued ellipses in which minds and senses, young and old, can run and delight and get lost.  

Thinkers.

Sun/son

And schoolbus tent.

Sunday morning walk

With Grandpop.

derby day

Lincoln spent a grand pinewood derby day racing cars, eating Doritos, hanging with Dad and Grandpop, amazing his sister and brother and losing his 3rd tooth (or rather, Mama yanking it out, on request, right in the middle of the 69th heat). His cool design came in a pretty consistent 4th out of 5 each try and he enjoyed the thrill of it even so. A pretty successful first showing all around. 

dress up duo

Today, 7:47 AM. These two are in full swing. 

too loud

TOs and FROMs

Making things for other people just to show them you like them and you care that they are in this world. Making things that require a fair amount of your time. Time away from what you were just doing right now. Making things that your parent could totally just make in your stead if she was into lying and raising lazy selfish jerks. 

With these kinds of projects, the twins are mostly ambivalent and occasionally hostile.  Linc is *just* starting to come around (although he teeters on the brink of that selfish abyss when faced with a few dozen TOs and FROMs: "My teacher said you can either bring something for everybody or for nobody.... I was thinking maybe nobody.") But he eventually found some motivation in the prospect of making people laugh with Star Wars jokes.  And O & Z were actually fairly eager to make a mess with Zeph's fingerprint kit from Aunt Debbie. So these three kids did some amount of creative work. They made their respective marks.  I'd call this a slightly less self-centered enterprise than it was last year.  I'll take it.   L seemed most excited about addressing an extra card to himself and the little guys actually do not show any signs of understanding the concept of exchanging valentines at all. 

But I'll get them yet.  Just you wait.

starry eyed

they're close

hideout

Three. (O)

toddler rays

Two toddlers just hanging out as we get ready for their brother's party. 

free range...

...in their bedroom today.

Two big kids.

Lots of jumping around.

And snuggling with one blankie.

And holding the other.

And giggling together (and trying to hit Zeph in the face while giggling). Until it was time to go to sleep.

It wasn't pretty after the lights went out, but I imagine they'll get the hang of it.......someday.

stripes on the couch