The life and times of Oscar Marcos Perez-Cytron. Born Thanksgiving Day 11/22/01.
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
If you want to add something to Oscar's baby-blog, send an email to megan@alpha60.com and we can set it up so you can post...
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Saturday, November 18, 2006
2:35 AM posted by Oscar
Pictures from Oscar's fifth birthday party:
http://cubansandwich.shutterfly.com
It's funny how easy it is to keep one of these blogs when your child is a little baby on whom you can easily project all of your ideas, neurosis, irreality, etc... Now that Oscar is older and a much more fully realized human being, I find it much harder to write about him. He should be writing this himself. I guess he will soon enough.
So here's a little story about a dream that he had:
Light bulb: Oscar's dream (word for word, as told to mama)
I was in a strange world where strange things happen and I saw a witch and I got littler so that I could fly into the inside of a lightbulb and not get caught. There was a tiny little door in it. Even littler. I got even littler so I could get in. Very fast. Vroom. (I got smaller in my dream because in my imagination I am stronger and I have magic in me. We all have magic and power in our dreams.) I was just a strange face inside the lightbulb. And then the witch disappeared into a tiger's belly. Because the tiger ate the witch. It was a bad witch. A bad guy showed that witch how to do bad things.
I was free. And I flew out of the lightbulb. And also I jumped out of the lightbulb like a bunny jumping out of a lightbulb. But then there was a hippopotamus who looked like a rhinocerous and he was my friend. The end. That rhymes.
The other day, he asked me out of the blue: "Mama, I wonder when I'll die." (A few asides: A couple of weeks ago, he started talking about "back music." We asked him what this was and he said is was an imaginary kind of music that makes people come back from the dead. Another oddity is that Oscar always says that all babies come from the river Styx and dead fish and other dead animals and people go to the River Styx/Manzanares--this mythology goes back to Stychimoloch--the name of one of his favorite dinosaurs and the first word that he wrote. We finally got some more fish for our tank and he wanted to put Spirata's shell in the tank to remember her. I said something like--"Now we can see Spirata whenever we want"--and Oscar said (in an incredulous tone): "No mama, that's just Spirata's shell. That's not Spirata. Spirata is dead and we can't ever see her again.")
We had a long talk about the subject (death/the human condition, that is) and started talking about memories and he told me that his memory is like a stamp. He said: I stamp and then it moves, stamp and then it moves, stamp and then it moves... It's as if he had a little bureaucrat inside his brain registering little snapshots as fast as he can and then filing them away for future use...
Today was his fifth birthday party with his friends from school at the neighborhood ludoteca (that's Latin for "play zone"). He had an amazing time. It was nice to see how well he has integrated into that group of kids, yet he is still quite different from them in many ways. It's not easy, as a guiri, even for a five year old... But they are really tight-knit now. He's been with the same group of kids since he was 2 1/2, with a few exceptions. If you talk to most adult Spaniards, at least a one of their closest friends goes straight back to preschool. Next Wednesday is his real birthday...
|
|
| |
|
|
|
