On board the Grammy Express to Dagobah

Yesterday afternoon, there were three developments in Casa Bradstein. Because nobody uses film anymore–film? whazzat?–that must mean that the kids did something new.

Tangentially, about film…you try explaining film to a four-year-old who’s only known digital cameras, or try explaining why you can’t change film with a kid on your back.
Back to the actual developments, then…I called to let Mama know I was on my way home and the phone was answered by a small excited voice that asked, “Hello?” Of course it had to be 3B, but it was so surprising that I didn’t know what to say. Then, as we were talking, he told me that he hadn’t had a time out all afternoon.
These are both a result of what I call the Grammy Effect. She had the kids all afternoon, which explains the lack of time outs. Not that she doesn’t dish them out–by the time I got home, she’d put 3B in one–but she’s got Jedi mind tricks that would mystify Yoda. It’s nice to have a professional parent around, even if I have too much of a beginner’s mind to learn what she’s doing. I’m hoping that eventually monkey-see-monkey-do will kick in and I’ll pick up some of her tricks.
And when I got home, she told me that while she was bathing Jewel, she had asked if Jewel was ready to get out of the tub. Initially, Jewel said, “No.” Five minutes later, however, Jewel looked up at Grammy and said, “I’m ready.”
That’s a whole new sentence for Jewel, in addition to her standard, “I’m done,” which announces the end of every meal, and the start of a five-minutes-to-tantrum-removal-from-booster-seat timer. Grammy and 3B both heard her new sentence, which comes as she’s trying all sorts of new words, like “Grammy,” on for size, even if she hasn’t got them all down quite yet.
She’ll get them soon enough. She’s ready. She’s on board.


Papa Bradstein will ride his bike–not a train–200 miles across Massachusetts in two days to help fight cancer. Please support his ride.

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  • There will be no further developments, since you're asking. All the developing chemicals–the developer, the fixer, the stop bath, the hypo–got taken to household hazardous waste dropoff this weekend.

    And after struggling for a few weeks to find a taker for the darkroom trays and racks and hoses and stirring rods and tanks, I gave up and took them all to Goodwill.

    About four hours later, I finally got a note from someone at Paly, saying "Sure, we'll take 'em all."

    Keep the chocolate cake coming.