Have just had three pomes published in issue 64 of Takahe - contributor's copies arrived yesterday (along with a small cheque that J has already earmarked for gin).
Maggie can sing "Twinkle twinkle little star" - or at least croon it in an entirely tuneful way (accompanied by twinkly hand gestures) as she doesn't have much in the way of words apart from mama, dada, up and the all-purpose ba-ba which refers, variously, to her sister, banana, and anything else she is pointing at/wishes to consume.
Slow food/Klezfest tomorrow - rather exciting. And apparently we're to play Summer City in Jan 12th - watch this space.
In a weird place at the moment: zooming around being busy because, today at least, if I stop I feel sad. But it's just chemicals; no more than that: I've weaned myself off the happy pills and now it's just me, feeling more myself, feeling strange. And all the more so for having written about it here.
Sometimes we call a child precocious because they acquire a certain skill quickly, but that skill turns out to be something where speed of acquisition is not at all important. We don’t say that someone who learned to walk at four months is a better walker than the rest of us. It’s not really a meaningful category.
Above quote from this rather heartening piece: I now feel vindicated for being too shagged/busy to overschedule my preschoolers.
