Cash & Dad's Second Year
A Wellerism is a directive masquerading as an honest question. The question is both smoke, in that it is a query in the first place, and mirror, reflecting a mask of self-denial about the real intent. Inevitably, the underlying meaning is revealed because we overuse our Wellerisms. A well worn path is never well hidden.
A Wellerism is a directive masquerading as an honest question. The question is both smoke, in that it is a query in the first place, and mirror, reflecting a mask of self-denial about the real intent. Inevitably, the underlying meaning is revealed because we overuse our Wellerisms. A well worn path is never well hidden.
Rachel suffers gravely from a Wellerism I am fond of: “Is everything ok?” Beneath this cloak of caring lurks an accusation: you are doing something wrong. In truth, the statement is a symptom of the opposite: I am doing something wrong.
Now Cash, true to your heritage, you have developed a simple but more potent Wellerism:
“Help me?”
Looking up with eyes seeping innocence, you plead, arms outstretched, "Help me?" to be picked up. Seems natural enough. Except, you no more want my help than Napoleon wants “help” from his prized horse Marengo in Louis David’s painting Napoleon Crossing the Alps.
Once ensconced in my arms, you whip out a Napoleonesc finger in the direction of some campaign. I am being commanded. I gallop around the house engaging in all matter of Cashy directives and if I dare deviate, you rein me in with an electrifying screech. I’m your bridled horse ... or how about stallion ;)
I guess it shouldn't be surprising that you share other interests with Napoleon. The emperor once said, "Nothing is more destructive than the charge of artillery on a crowd." You've applied this affinity to me.
Changing your diapers, I am occasionally met with giggling and a purposeful look in your eye. Spreading your legs, I am struck by a cannon shot of spraying poop. It took several incidents before it sunk in that this was serial, premeditated cannoning. The wild, hysterical, Cashy laughter should have tipped me off.
Very funny.
Today, diaper changes are world record sprints in changing, dodging to avail you no target. To add insult to injury, when you've eaten spicy food, you often ask for a kiss. You want kisses where it hurts. Yes, you are actually asking me to kiss your ...
Changing your diapers, I am occasionally met with giggling and a purposeful look in your eye. Spreading your legs, I am struck by a cannon shot of spraying poop. It took several incidents before it sunk in that this was serial, premeditated cannoning. The wild, hysterical, Cashy laughter should have tipped me off.
Very funny.
Today, diaper changes are world record sprints in changing, dodging to avail you no target. To add insult to injury, when you've eaten spicy food, you often ask for a kiss. You want kisses where it hurts. Yes, you are actually asking me to kiss your ...
Happy Birthday Cashy! Your second birthday arrived in spectacular celebration at Palissades Park near our house. Rachel did a great job getting lots of friends to come despite the overbearing Washington summer heat. Too bad you had no idea what was going on.
Love,
Dad
Love,
Dad
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