It’s 10:30 on a Monday morning, and on the floor beside me lies one chunky-thighed infant. He’s on his belly; it’s where he prefers to be, these days, and he snuffles excitedly as he reaches for the chime ball that is just out of his reach. Every now and then he manages to just touch it with his fingers–the action pushes the ball even further away. He doesn’t seem to be aware of this, though. He crows and sings to it as if coaxing it back closer to himself.
How do you like that word? It means “a confused jumble or medley of things”. Like the kids’ toy box, or maybe that casserole on Leftovers Night, or maybe a bit of an update made up of things that are too insignificant or underdeveloped to warrant their own posts.
Eldore Rex turned four months old on the 19th of March.
We went for a walk yesterday through the orchard. It’s hard to call it that–it still looks like a motley collection of twigs stuck in the ground. It doesn’t quite have the feel of a real, mature, fruit-bearing orchard; though it will, of course, become that with care and time.