People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.
--Diane Setterfield
Friday, January 23, 2009
I am seriously contemplating potty training ... starting now...
The Chinese teach their children to be potty trained by about 6 months. They use a signal (usually the same pitch of whistling) and hold their child over the toilet. (And you wondered why Amber always whistled when she went to the bathroom...)
3 comments:
Haha! Oh the joys!...
May you be strong and your olefactory weak. Come change my babies one morning and you will rejoice to have your baby.
The Chinese teach their children to be potty trained by about 6 months. They use a signal (usually the same pitch of whistling) and hold their child over the toilet. (And you wondered why Amber always whistled when she went to the bathroom...)
It's all in line with Pavlov.
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