Gardening accident or, That was a week, it was
In which, after far too long an absence, Papa Zesser returns to his documentary duties, reporting on childhood illness, a bad fall of his own, and the fragility of la vie quotidienne. Read more …
In which, after far too long an absence, Papa Zesser returns to his documentary duties, reporting on childhood illness, a bad fall of his own, and the fragility of la vie quotidienne. Read more …
In which Papa Zesser finds that the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic is starting to wear on him.
And worse, that it is start to affect his daughter’s development.
Yes, I’m angry. Read more …
In which Papa Zesser is reminded by a frustrated Mama Raven of the primary purpose of this blog: To serve as a record for my daughter, of my daughter’s first years on planet Earth. To capture her milestones and setbacks, her triumphs and tribulations (if any).
In other words, to provide for her a little light on those years that none of us are lucky enough to remember come that years we might want to.
Well actually, the reminder is the proximate cause of this new Letter to My Daughter, but not what it’s about.
For that, you’ll need to read more.
I’m sure most of us have unpleasant (or worse) memories of aunts or uncles who insisted on smothering us with unwelcome hugs and kisses when we were small. And too many of us had parents who insisted that we not “be mean” to that relative.
Recently, Baobao has been, playfully, saying No! to me. What’s a Papa to do?