Parallels

Listening to Jack and Jimmy Coen on flute and guitar, tea in the pot as the snow melts outside the window. Pas mal, except an exit must, alas, be made.

Last night we had the glorious pleasure of minding Macdara the “wain” as they say in Donegal. He’s besotted with my son and even though he’s all of six or seven months old cackles laughing at him. My boyo recorded the babog laughing on a Garageband track, which later he played back to him when he became a bit restless over his teething. It was astonishing to see a baby demonstrate emotional memory, for the little dote settled down and laughed and laughed again each time he heard himself laughing on the track and heard the words and sounds that made him laugh the first time. Very touching indeed.

Also touching was the sight of a second bookmark in my own small man’s novel. What’s this? Says I. Oh he explained another boy in his class had borrowed his book to read during recess, so this was the other boy’s bookmark of where he’d read to …. Who says boys don’t read?!