Skip to main content

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face


Go on then, here's another sleeping baby for your enjoyment...

Henry has a new trick now. Every time that you tell him off, he looks up and somehow increases the size of his eyes by around thirty percent. He then blinks a few times to generate a teary-eyed appearance, and follows with "Henry loves you so much, Daddy".

I would be appaled if I wasn't impressed at his early - however crude - grasp of emotional manipulation. He's a chip off the old block all right!

Comments

Priyanka Khot said…
he is such an adorable baby!!!

I wish I could have such a calm sleep anytime this whole week...

I love the fact that children everywhere are the same. Emotional manipulation is one of the life lessons that no school in the world teaches but children from across the globe can claim to be masters of the stream.

Proud of Henry...heheh
G. B. Miller said…
Now that is a picture of serenity that will take away whatever grief you might be going through at the time.

Emotional manipulation? Be glad you don't have a daughter, because 1) it gets worse when they get older and 2) it's much worse with a female.
KL said…
Lovely...
Hahahaha...don't we all do such emotional manipulations all the time :-D?
Kris McCracken said…
Priyanka, you should hear him giggle!
Kris McCracken said…
G, every day I thank the gods that I have two sons. I'm scared of girls.
Kris McCracken said…
KL, they learn it early. I blame his mother...
KL said…
So, we learn how to do all the emotional manipulations from mothers :-D? Well, mother is the first and foremost teacher of a child (which of course many mothers are forgetting nowadays) :-), so no surprise there.
Kris McCracken said…
KL, I'm better at guilt trips than Jen. She's all bribes and brute force.
KL said…
I am still trying to understand the meaning of that statement.....
Kris McCracken said…
KL, I have been described as an "emotional terrorist".

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.