So loud you can’t hear it

bullet points

I found this list while I was cleaning today. My thoughts (other than: Henry needs to work on his handwriting) are that there is a quiet poeticism going on in my 9-year-old that I only find out about when I find discarded papers under the couch. Secret poetic tidbits.

Comments (8)

  1. Julie Hedlund January 8, 2013 at 2:53 pm

    Don’t you love it when you find treasures like that? Just yesterday I found my son’s ultrasound photos tucked in a box in my daughter’s room. My first thought was, “I’m such a bad mother that I didn’t have these someplace safe.” Then I was just grateful to have them at all.

  2. Julie January 8, 2013 at 2:56 pm

    Zuzu regularly likes to pillage her baby book. So I thought the ultrasound pictures were safe, but then they were just thrown around her room, by her.

    (And, not to be too weird, but: I vastly prefer the photos of them when they’re not in utero. I mean, I can’t throw those out or anything, but they definitely don’t make me think, “Awww! So cute!”) (More: “Which way is up?”)

  3. Carter Higgins January 8, 2013 at 3:18 pm

    So, can you hear it? Or is it too loud AND too quiet. I am kinda obsessed with this.

  4. Julie January 8, 2013 at 3:21 pm

    Also: smooth AND bumpy? And: is this a to-do list? A to-be list? I’m currently formulating my action plan on how to ask about this so as to get the Truth of the Matter, and also not be disappointed by the answer (like, what if the answer is, “It’s something I saw in a YouTube video”?).

  5. LoriO January 8, 2013 at 4:08 pm

    Bumps can be smooth, and I guess that something can be so loud it could break your eardrums, then you couldn’t hear it. Or like living by the freeway, it’s so loud I can no longer hear it.

  6. Julie January 8, 2013 at 4:10 pm

    I think you’re overthinking it, Lori? (Or maybe it’s just that I’m imagining all of these things being said by, say, a cat who is trying to be all zen but is really just making stuff up.)

  7. Katie Davis January 11, 2013 at 9:05 am

    That reminds me that I found a pad that Benny, also age 9 at the time, had written SPELLS at the top. On the side, he wrote what the spells were for. My favorite was this one, for lint: “Hint a pebble, eyes to glint, turn this pebble into lint!” I love the poem, but mostly I love that he thought it was important to have a spell for lint. One can never have too much, after all.

  8. Julie January 11, 2013 at 9:22 am


    Did you nod knowingly, looking at all the lint pebbles around you? (“So THAT’S where they came from!”)

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