Little one you are safe, nothing will hurt you, nothing can. Your good dreams are premonitions of the world to come, your bad dreams are exorcisms. When you look to us for trust, we're worth it, we won't fuck it up. We won't drop you, call you names, or mail you cross-country 4th class in a box with air-holes and a feeding bowl, even if somewhere down the road you really get on our nerves and we're dying to see a movie in the theater.
Little one your schemes are forming, you lift your head and smile and laugh and talk. You know that music is music, that love is love, that it's better with friends around and how to make them smile. Your schemes become projects: roll 3 feet, eat a blanket, eat a ribbon, eat a pacifier, eat the cat. Continuity, beta version, entropy patcher, stalwart champion of addition and multiplication, erudite designer of cross-cultural constellations, box of apples, sailing ship telescope wizard, defeater of depressives, existentialists, and cynics, cloud catcher, befriender/tamer of ghosts.
You've probably seen them on TV: classes of infants clad in swimsuit diapers or only in what Mother Nature gave them, floating effortlessly through the water like little mermaids or piranhas. You want your child to learn basic water safety, but is tossing your baby into a pool the way to teach him?
Yes.
