When my son was just over a year old, we'd argue about the flying trilobite tattoo on my arm.
"Can you say, 'tri-lo-bite'?"
"Bee," pointing at my arm.
"It looks like a bee, yes. But it's a trilobite."
"Try clapping out the syllables for him," Michelle, the educator, suggested.
"Okay, Calvin,"(clapping each syllable)"Tri-lo-bite," I enunciated.
Random clapping. "Bee."
Again, clapping each syllable. "Tri-lo-bite".
An exasperated look for his father, the toddler touched my winged trilobite tattoo, looked me in the eye and said:
"A big bee."
Now he's two, and can say it just fine. After saying it clearly for the first time, holding the fossil above (minus the wings: I found the wings in the years once years ago and snapped the pic - birds had eaten the rest of the poor monarch).
After saying "Trilobite", he laughed, refused to give back the fossil, and a chase scene ensued.
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Original artwork on The Flying Trilobite © to Glendon Mellow
under Creative Commons Licence.
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Trinity-Bellwoods is not the largest or most wooded park in Toronto, but I pass through it to and from work every day. The little albino squirrel, going about its squirrely business with its grey and black squirrelerific friends, is something of a local celebrity. Nearby boutiques on the hipster-filled Queen St. West scene will occasionally have messages in their window, or on their sidewalk signs. One store even had a plush one in the window.
This second pic is horribly blurry. I'd like to blame that on my kindness in not pursuing the squirrel too closely, as I'm sure it is followed by paparazzi hoping to catch a glimpse of a wardrobe malfunction more often than the other squirrels. But I think the picture may be blurry due to the icy ground, and the amount of coffee I had this morning. Blurred like this though, doesn't it look a bit like it's going to pelt an acorn at my head? It's eyeing me, like I'm just another shutterbug.