Although it would have been more helpful had I clued you in ahead of time, we were part of the Artworks Open Studio Tour today and yesterday. We tidied up the workroom, arranged stacks of books as nicely as we could, and waited patiently at our desks for people to show up. It was a relatively quiet weekend in Chestertown, so we also had a chance to get a little work done, but we met some new folks, had some interesting conversations, and added a few new subscribers to the fold.
Because Robbi and I were sort of on duty, Alden and Kato had to entertain themselves for the most part. At first they seemed content to play quietly with their various colorful plastic objects, but at one point, I looked over to where they were sitting in seeming innocence near the center of the room and got the sense that things were not quite right. Their posture and manner of speaking (a mumble too low to be intelligible) can only be described as “conspiratorial”.
A bit worried (but trying not to seem so) I asked Alden what was going on. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. She seemed torn between panic and action. She turned to Kato and hissed, “It’s go time!” Immediately, the two of them bolted for the baby gate. OK, Alden bolted and Kato commando crawled his way across the room, but it was so endearing that I was rendered immobile. As such, I was unable to prevent the disturbing scene that followed.
Once ensconced at the threshold of oppression, Alden started chanting ardent pleas for liberation. She recounted a litany of complaints, starting with the quality of hot dogs (or lack thereof) and commenting on every other aspect of her (apparently disappointing) upbringing. Apparently, she is unhappy with the fact that I dress her in mismatching socks. Apparently, she is embarrassed by my haircut. It was unclear whether Kato shared her rage or was merely along for the ride. He seemed to be enjoying the clanking sounds that resulted when the gate banged against the wall.
It was a symbolic protest, at best. There was no one to hear the complaints, and even if there had been, Alden’s powers of pronunciation are sufficiently underwhelming as to make her tirade unintelligible to all but those of us who know her best. We decided to let things play out. Eventually, her ire faded, she cooled down, and looked over at me. “How about some cheese, Papa?” she said.
I said it sounded like a plan, but suggested that we have a hug first.
Kato was clearly disenchanted. The world moves too quickly for him, it seems. He continued to protest while Alden ate her cheese, not quite sure of his complaint, but nevertheless committed to the cause.
I admire his resolve, his patience, his send of commitment. It bodes well for the person he’ll become. But then again, he’s never tasted cheese.
