about a boy

In 24 hours, he managed to cut his upper lips, bruise his knees, fall back on the mat, accumulate a whole load of laundry and well, this. He explored a little too much and somehow managed to get himself stuck inbetween the bars of the mobile clothes rack.

In both hands he holds his ‘treasures’. Not toys mind you. At least not in the conventional sense. We have an established routine of sorts. Everyday I will add empty bottles (milk, drink, food, whatever) to the recycle pile and every day he will take them out. Every night after he sleeps, I return the bottles to the pile and he starts the cycle again the next morning.

Right now, his favourite is the Meiji 2l fresh milk bottle. The other hand holds his drinking cup. Which he carries around a fair bit. Sometimes, you might see him drinking, head thrown back and lurching around in what feels like a drunken stupor.

Back to his odd fix… he was whimpering because he was trapped. Not from pain. The minute he was lifted out of the ‘hole’, he was back on his two feet, running around the home. What a day. And it has only just begun.

(it is quite fun to read the few notes on this photo at Flickr!)