"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh, Callay"
He chortled in his joy."
L. Carroll
Little Clam, age fifteen months. He is holding a modern Jabberwock, his mother's berry phone. Fascinated by things with buttons, bells, lights or whistles he usually whisks the phone away when no one is looking and gives it a thorough punching (so far no international "pocket calls." On this day, Mame was bribing him for the photographer. His face: "You're giving this to me? Why are you giving me your phone? So it's mine now? For keeps? Something isn't right here."
But it worked and the photographer got her shot.
Plenty of time to deal with the Jabberwock tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment