Lesbian Dad

10th of 21

rapt

Rapt.

We were at the fantabulous Lawrence Hall of Science, atop the Berkeley hills yesterday — a place the girlie calls the “Lawrence Hollow Science,” and who’s going to have the heart to correct her? — and the kiddles couldn’t resist tucking over to the tyke-sized puppet show stage.  

But instead of joining his older sister’s play, the lil’ peanut just put his puppet on and then simply stared, transfixed by the vision of a kid about his age having a fairly extended tantrum. I only pray he was not taking mental notes, but thinking instead: “Wow! Almost as bad as Sissy’s tantrum an hour ago, only he’s not throwing things at me!”

In other news, fantastic photogenic scenery shots outside the museum were foiled by the umpteenth inopportune iteration of a camera battery malfunction (here’s one person’s view from there @ sunset; it’s easily the #1 view spot of SF and the Gate from the East Bay).   I need to attend to this soon, since I only have so much archival photo stock to work with and we’re barely half-way through the photo-a-day month. Plus, I’m really quite fond of recording these people’s youthful development.  Coupla years from now they’re going to turn around notice me and thrust out their hands at me — “No, Baba!” — and the jig will be up. Meanwhile, I’m about as rapt as this little guy is.

 

[It’s A month o’ photos at LD. Here for words only? Please check back in June 1.]


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