Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Road Less Travelled

Eggplant, my Eggplant, is my little Robert Frost poem. He consistently follows his own path, which is more frequently than not different from all other paths. This ranges from the literal, like when he bikes the long way around the park while the rest of use ride through the middle, to the figurative, like his use of this plastic horn:

He experiments with everything, sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident.  Did you know, for example, that Washing Soda combined with water and heated under a shop light solidifies like clay? Eggplant found this out today:



There are times, I will admit, when I would just like him to use an item as it was originally intended. I would love to have all my electronics remain in working order, would appreciate my rugs remaining clean, might like food to actually be consumed like food.  The washing soda?  I needed some an hour later, but, alas, 'twas all used up.

At the same time, watching Eggplant work is like watching art. He sees the potential in every item, every person, every moment he encounters that no one else might imagine. He can make tape a prized commodity and turn cardboard into gold. He is part Thomas Edison, part Sydney Polluck, part e.e. cummings, part Rumplestilskin.

I just want to step into his brain and explore.

And I love him beyond my own imagination.
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This is the picture Eggplant drew tonight when HotNerd expressed that he was too tired to read more from the Lemony Snickett book:

HotNerd got the message and Eggplant got a few pages.

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