You WISH I Had a Picture for This

So, today I am having a fabulous lunch with my fabulous parents at a fabulous winery. Of course my fabulous son is with us. We are seated at a table under the Wisteria covered gazebo, enjoying our chicken/salmon/mahi mahi salads. Max is eating buttered spaghetti noodles. He's not just eating the noodles, but also running around the grounds, chasing birds and having fun. He's not eating the noodles while he sits in a chair at the table with us. He's shoving down handfuls in between chasing the birds around. So he is eating like some kind of caveman. All of a sudden he starts shoving his finger up his nose and saying "nose!" He is shoving that finger all the way up to his second little knuckle. He is scrunching up his whole face and whimpering. He rubs his hands on his face and he is clearly in a lot of discomfort. I think that he may have gotten some pepper in his nose. I tilt his head back and look, but nothing. I put my mouth over his nose and blow, thinking maybe something is stuck, but nothing. Max sneezes and nothing. I sit back down, thinking that whatever is bothering him, it will soon stop. My mom takes over. She tries blowing in his nose too, but has the same result. Then, all of a sudden, Max sneezes again. This time there is a little piece of spaghetti sticking out of his nose and my mom pulls on it, revealing a 3 inch strand that comes out. I get little shivers just thinking about it. Gross!!! Truly a missed Kodak moment. We start laughing and Max just runs off, after another bird, like nothing ever happened.

Krinken

Krinken was a little child,—
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.

Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.

"Krinken," said the maiden Nis,
"Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea.

"Krinken was a little child—
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him—
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.

Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,—
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,—
Summer, summer evermore,—
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.

Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His fair face lifts from the sea,
His dear voice calls out to me,—
These my dreams of summer be.

Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,—
Winter, cold and dark and wild.

Krinken was a little child,—
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.

Eugene Fields