I apologize in advance for the blurriness of the shots. It was a birthday, and my camera picked the wrong time to not care.
Here he is. It's 7:00 in the morning and he's waiting to come up and open birthday presents.
This is the: Oh!-I-think-I-know-what-it-is face
This is the: I-was-right face.
This is the: what-is-it? face.
The: I'm-smiling-because-I-know-it's-going-to-be-cool, face.
Which is repeated here. The I'm-smiling-because-I-know-it's-going-to-be-cool face is the default face for birthday mornings.
Other varieties of faces include: Grandma-gave-me-a-check face...
The: I-don't-know-what-this-is face.
The: eyeing-other-presents-while-you-open-the-card face.
Strictly reserved for kidlife. Most adults do not do this. Do you remember what year you started caring about the card? It may have been as recent as this year, for some of us. Others have yet to reach that earmark.
The: is-this-what-I-think-it-is? face.
The: it-is!-it-is! face used by older brothers.
A reflection of the same face can often be seen in older brothers. Notice the shared I-love-it face.
And the identical it's-awesome face.
After all those faces there's only one thing left to do.
He's six. And he's sideways.
Friday, December 11, 2009
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8 comments:
I LOVE kid present faces. They are the best and bring back good memories :)
Now We Are Six by A.A. Milne
When I was one,
I had just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six
now and forever.
Happy Birthday, Sawyer! Six is the best age yet!
I love that poem! And I bet it was from memory, wasn't it? I wish I had such things tucked away. I've got this one in the recesses of my brain---
A hill todd it twer layin'
atop a roondy craig
a niff a poultry doon belay
fair made it's whiskers wag
the farmis canny lad ye kin
geese fas in th'hemmel
ducks in th'pen
then fyoul shuts 'enouse less one hen
begox yon tod was jumpin.
---from Watership Down
I find yours more useful.
Missy, I can't make out a word of your poem except it seems to be about Todd!
Oh, make that Todd and a guy named Craig!
heh heh. I think it's gaelic. Tod means fox. It's about a fox getting into the henhouse and whatever possessed me to think it was cool enough to memorize remains a mystery. I WAS 10 at the time. So maybe that explains it.
I've graduated to expressions such as the:
i-don't-really-like-it-but-i'll-look-happy-anyway-face
but I still put all those other ones into work every once in awhile.
llllllllllllllllllll
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