2 Novembre 2010
Our first walk with mathis in the usa was to find a park in the deserted streets of this residential neighborhood where signs remind you with ominous pride that you are being watched, yet you can find no one to ask for directions although you are totally lost with your three year old and all the streets look oddly similar, as if it were dangerous to be too different. I feel too different. My son is obviously and obliviously too different. He is running on all their impecably cut lawns, throwing dirt on the streets and picking up rocks and building little cabins in strangers flowerbeds as they watch us through drawn curtains. He told me he needed to poop at the playground and I told him we had to go back to the house, he said ''why dad there is grass all over the place and pulled out his white little butt and started pooping between the japonese maple and some expensive looking laurel bush. He looked at me looking awkward and said, true story, 'dont worry dad its good for the flowers... '
I imagine that at some point I will get over finding doornobs and light switches so much more solid and practical than in france and start looking at things from a more intricate and interesting point of view. for now i am just playing with my kid and wiping his arse in up scale residential neighborhoods and laughing frequently at the little idiosyncracies.