The East, part 9: The Little Family

Family Life

The Japanese Maple I showed you a couple of days ago is almost winter stripped.

Just inside the school yard.

The milk box.  I’m so fond of it.  

The teacher. Unlike Frazz’ last teacher – the Russian lady who was so focused – these folks are very earth shoe and organic.  Still good.

The school room.

More school room.

Family sculpture.  Every find family has some.

This is a sad story.  It begins here, with the Frazz explaining to his frazzled mother that the piece of bread he holds in his hand no longer tastes good because the dog, under the table just there, might have smelled it.

She is unsympathetic.  Hard-hearted mothers.  You just have to keep explaining till they get it.

And if words don’t do it, you have to show them.

And if nothing else works, the ship just sinks.

Dr. K at work.

Mom.  Is the child in bed?  She seems so peaceful.

The well adjusted Grandpa, working the kitchen.

At breakfast.  The eggs remind him of a Land Rover (or, as it is now known in our family, a Land Grover).  The mom, my child, jumps up with the camera that is permanently attached to her hand, to record the miraculous eggs.

This is what it means to be obsessed with capturing the image.

Any mother who has not worn this look, raise your hand and we will escort you from the building.

Still to come: the great cupcake project.