Our tomato vine grew from seed back when daylight was at a minimum. A few winter months at the top of the stairs outside our apartment door, a little neglected at times, and now it is bearing fruit.
Kien has picked many inedible green ones and brought them to me excitedly. I can't tell him off for that, he loves to pick things to give to me.
We went for a walk around the Freemans Park complex late this afternoon with the SLR camera. The blossoms had bloomed, the great oak tree outside our backdoor sprouted an abundance of leaves seemingly overnight, and patches of daisies had cropped up all over the lawn. It was a perfect Saturday at dusk, with the sun low on the horizon. My child explored.
He must have not realised he was stepping down from the footpath, and I watched in slow motion as he face planted onto the ground. I heard his forehead hitting the asphalt, the sound similar to when you strike two stones together. There was a second of silence before the scream. I picked him up immediately and cuddled him as the blood seeped from the wound. I felt awful.
The neighborhood boys who were riding around on their kick scooters saw what had happened and immediately came over. They watched as I wiped Kien's blood off with my fingers and transferred it onto my cardigan. Lovely boys, they were genuinely concerned, and they smiled back at Kien when he realised he had an audience and beamed them a grin after the shock had warn off. I still felt awful.
I went upstairs, I cleaned him up as he giggled.
A little while later he decided he was hot?!? So the clothes came off. But he was adamant on having his socks and shoes on.
He danced on the table top as he flashed the world.
He also said "Poo", which usually means he's already done one. I rushed him off to the toilet, but nothing happened. He went back to playing.
Look at that tummy, filled with rice and bbq pork. He ate so much at my Dad's this afternoon. It surprised us all.
