journal features

the patient boy

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Tokyo, 2009.11.26

Tonight I put The Boy through something arduous for a small boy. Waiting as I did errands.

It was one of those evenings. I'd been catching up on my workload all day and in the evening I had a fair bit of running around to do after picking him up at the day care. First we dropped off a roll of film from the Hong Kong trip for development. Then we bought coffee beans. Then we stopped at a "baby's" store and looked at some lightweight toddler's strollers. And finally we stopped at a burger place for what I shamefacedly called "dinner".

Through it all, his behaviour was quite good. He likes being out in the city, and really seems to enjoy being on the bike. By the time we were home, he was clearly ravenous, and kept saying, "hamburger".

A good evening. Even if The Boy's already too big for the toddler's strollers that I was able to find.

rand()m quote

It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.

—Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.