The "Your toddler" e-newsletter I get from the hospital where Nuggest was born says I "should not be alarmed" that my toddler is developing an imagination. "He is not confusing a sofa cushion for a fluffy cloud--he is allowing his imagination to stretch itself out and find new ways to play!" What a relief.
One of the windows on the front of the new public library in my neighborhood looks into this little vestibule with a couple of doors. Architecturally speaking, that's weird enough. But it's a refurbished vintage building, so I guess it wasn't planned that way. Much weirder: In the corner of the room there is a giant (like, 8 feet high) mound of something that looks *exactly* like a pile of dirty snow/frozen slush with a layer of fresh snow on top. If you are from a midwestern city you know wat I'm talking about. All the snow gets pushed into these massive piles by the snowplows, and because they're so big they don't melt for pretty much the whole winter. But they get really dirty and also sort of dehydrated. The surface gets all pockmarked, which is emphasized by the greasy black grime that has stuck to it. It's really gross. But whatever this is in the library vestibule, it looks exactly like that. With, as I said, a fresh layer of snow partially covering the grimy dried out ness. Is the vestibule a walk-in freezer in which one of these snowdrifts is being preserved fo god knows what reason? Is it "art"? A recreation for a museum of weather-related novelties?
I saw the snowdrift exhibit when I went to the library to vote this morning. Nugget tagged along--his first experience of democracy. He didn't seem very excited. After we left he asked "Mommy vote?" (Which sounded more like "Mommy boat?") -- as if to say, so are you going to vote now that we're done with that boring thing at the library?
Not a minimalist:
I don't know where he gets it:
We call this pile of sh-t "the library."