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fireworks

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

Today we went to see fireworks for the first time in the boy's life. He seemed to enjoy it, but only passively. Frankly I think he was a bit worn out by the time the fireworks got going, because he'd been playing with Tastua-kun and Chika-chan, the children of our hosts the Satois. In fact, Ken had dozed off at first, which amazed me because there were a lot of really hear-rattling bangs. But he was clearly watching.

I wonder what he made of it all.

Then when we got home, he had a funny accident. He'd pooed, and as I was changing him he spat out his passifier. I took my hand off the diaper to get the passifier, and in doing so allowed him to start peeing freely.

Which he did, directly onto his face. He gave a startled gurgle (I'd just got the passifier back in his mouth) and then became angry and upset, perhaps not realizing that he was doing it to himself.

I can almost hear the pleas, twelve years from now, as he asks me to take this journal entry down.