Here a click, there a click, everywhere a click, click...
Mr. Michael did some funky stuff on the computer this evening--stealthly quietly too. It was quite a scene. The things-are-too-quiet siren blared in my head while I was cooking TWO dinners at once tonight. Why do I torture myself? Nick called in the middle of the chopping and simmering to say that he'd be studying later than normal. We could've done Chick-fil-A if I would have known that beforehand, but it was just as well. Nathan twiddled about the house, drawing, making alien-fighting pssh-ing and fwauu-ing sounds, reading a few little books to me while sitting at the counter, etc. Michael was, well, what WAS Michael doing? Michael? Where are you Michael?
Everything happens for a reason, and it's a good thing that I was introduced to parenthood with a cautious, even-tempered child.
Picture this:
Michael squatted ON the computer DESK in front of the keyboard (computer desk chair now doubles as a ladder, apparently), hunched over so he could still maneuver the mouse. On the screen were some funky, funky things. He opened a screen-version of a keyboard. At the top was a magnifying window for anything on screen to be blown up for the reader to see much larger. A few things I had NO clue what they were (and I didn't even know there were applications for magnifiers and on-screen keyboards--and I still couldn't tell you how to get to them now). Then, somehow he had the internet opened to a banana-zucchini bread recipe: I had never seen the recipe nor the website from where it came.
He just smiled and inched his way back into the desk chair. I guess he anticipated a few breather moments where I'd be stunned by what he did, and then I'd get onto him for squatting ON the desk. Maybe he ought to apply for a job at Microsoft. Perhaps he uncovered applications that are yet to be utilized. Most likely they ARE used, but there existence is NEW TO ME!
Nathan and I joked about the likelihood that he could've contacted. . . "New York," Nathan said. I added, "New Zealand," then "Perhaps a new universe." That was most likely. Perhaps the magnifier was a portal into a newly discovered existence. And the keyboard was the only means of communication.
We put tonight's dinner on a fast-track, diverted Michael from doing any secret CIA code-cracking, and spent the next half-hour dining with each other.
All in a night's work.
Mr. Michael did some funky stuff on the computer this evening--stealthly quietly too. It was quite a scene. The things-are-too-quiet siren blared in my head while I was cooking TWO dinners at once tonight. Why do I torture myself? Nick called in the middle of the chopping and simmering to say that he'd be studying later than normal. We could've done Chick-fil-A if I would have known that beforehand, but it was just as well. Nathan twiddled about the house, drawing, making alien-fighting pssh-ing and fwauu-ing sounds, reading a few little books to me while sitting at the counter, etc. Michael was, well, what WAS Michael doing? Michael? Where are you Michael?
Everything happens for a reason, and it's a good thing that I was introduced to parenthood with a cautious, even-tempered child.
Picture this:
Michael squatted ON the computer DESK in front of the keyboard (computer desk chair now doubles as a ladder, apparently), hunched over so he could still maneuver the mouse. On the screen were some funky, funky things. He opened a screen-version of a keyboard. At the top was a magnifying window for anything on screen to be blown up for the reader to see much larger. A few things I had NO clue what they were (and I didn't even know there were applications for magnifiers and on-screen keyboards--and I still couldn't tell you how to get to them now). Then, somehow he had the internet opened to a banana-zucchini bread recipe: I had never seen the recipe nor the website from where it came.
He just smiled and inched his way back into the desk chair. I guess he anticipated a few breather moments where I'd be stunned by what he did, and then I'd get onto him for squatting ON the desk. Maybe he ought to apply for a job at Microsoft. Perhaps he uncovered applications that are yet to be utilized. Most likely they ARE used, but there existence is NEW TO ME!
Nathan and I joked about the likelihood that he could've contacted. . . "New York," Nathan said. I added, "New Zealand," then "Perhaps a new universe." That was most likely. Perhaps the magnifier was a portal into a newly discovered existence. And the keyboard was the only means of communication.
We put tonight's dinner on a fast-track, diverted Michael from doing any secret CIA code-cracking, and spent the next half-hour dining with each other.
All in a night's work.
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