This isn't what you think it's about...

I hope Pea is never enticed to make conversation where conversation isn't intended to be made.

Is this weird?  I think this is weird.  Tell me this isn't weird.  But even if you say this isn't weird, I will still think it's weird.

Oh, and this is your official T.M.I. warning.

I was at work yesterday, and I had to attend a sit-down "Business Meeting" in the men's room, if you catch my drift.

Hey, I said TMI, so you had fair warning.

Anyway, as I was tending to the last order of business on my agenda, the feller in the meeting room next to me was also closing his meeting.  Just before he adjourned his meeting (aka flushed) I heard him say, and I quote, "Ahhhh, that's better."

THAT'S WEIRD, RIGHT?  I mean, c'mon, I didn't need to hear that, nor did the other gentlemen in their meetings at the time.

Saying that, at that moment, implies that you were in some sort of discomfort or distress for an extended period of time, and quite frankly, that thought is far worse that hearing you comment on it afterwards.

Ladies, I don't know what things are like in your meeting rooms, but in our neck of the woods there's no place for joviality and rhetoric.  You go in, do your business in silence, and get out.  Bing, bang, plop, boom.  That's it.

There has to be order in society!  Talking in the men's room, even if it is a quip to yourself, well that's anarchy, plain and simple!

So to you, mystery talker, I say this: you may not be able to keep your pants zipped up when you're in the mens room, but you can certainly keep your mouth zipped.

Good day.  I SAID GOOD DAY!

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she is never enticed to make conversation where conversation isn't intended to be made.

PS - I dare any one of you to defend the potty talker!  I DARE YOU!

L'impacte de l'oiseau

I hope Pea never puts up filters.

My mother-Pod-in-law recently started taking Pea to an Early Years centre near our house. When she's there, Pea has the chance to play with other kids her age. This is a bit of a novelty for her since she has a relatively small circle of friends that she sees quite rarely, because they live far away and Pea can't yet drive anything other than a large mouse with wheels.

Every time Pea returns from the Early Years centre, she comes armed with some kind of art and/or craft masterpiece (and yes, the mere fact that my daughter made this item makes it a masterpiece... you got a problem with that?).

Recent crafts include a 'oiseau' (we live in Canada, I shouldn't have to translate that... in case I do, see the above photo) and a mask.

The mask is beige, with some hairy stuff taped around the edges for effect and beauty. When I look at this mask, it's clear to me that both thought and care went into picking the amount, thickness, density and exact location of this hairy stuff.

In seeing this mask, I have a very rare but vivid flashforward.

I could immediately picture Pea in a small studio, somewhere outside of Venice or London, crafting piece after glorious piece of expensive, highly-coveted art. Like all great artists, she'd be in an extremely intense frame of mind, probably standing a few feet from her canvas and aggressively tossing the paint with a brush.

A digression, I apologize.

My stereotypical view of artists aside, it wasn't the idea of Pea creating that I was really focused on, it was the immense and obvious pride she felt at what she had done.

My little girl's unfiltered pride may be my absolute favourite form of expression, second only to her laughter.

So when I arrive to pick Pea up one day, she runs to the door, mask in hand, to show me what she's created. She isn't worried about whether I will like it or not. She isn't concerned that she missed a few spots with hair, or that maybe an older kid's mask was more elaborate and decadent.

She was clearly proud of what she had done an it showed on her face and in her body language. I could tell she was trying to hide a growing smile on her face, and that she cherished what she had made just as much as I did.

I'm trying to avoid the temptation to bring everything she has ever touched to work to show my colleagues, because the experience of seeing my prideful child is something I want to share with everyone... but that few people other than me and the Pod will actually care about.

I guess that's my unfiltered pride, shining through. And I dare you to tell me it isn't warranted.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never puts up filters.