Lingering Rear-Guard of the Light

Some months ago, I compared Hubby to one of the Three Men in a Boat.

“‘The immortal JK Jerome once wrote:

‘You can never rouse Harris. There is no poetry about Harris – no wild yearning for the unattainable. Harris never “weeps, he knows not why.” If Harris’s eyes fill with tears, you can bet it is because Harris has been eating raw onions, or has put too much Worcester over his chop.’ ”

I feel that Harry is showing disturbing signs of being just such another.

This evening, I lifted him onto the sofa that backs up against the windowsill in order to point out to him – in glowing terms – the staggeringly beautiful sunset that was lighting up the western sky. Harry stared into the distance, unmoved… his gaze slid downwards and lighted upon the TV remotes, hidden from toddler-level view on the windowsill. He pounced with a shriek of delight, and clutched a zapper in each hand faster than a gunslinger facing a tricky high noon. He wriggled determinedly around in my grip to face into the room and retracted his legs in order to plump himself down on the sofa seat, in satisfied fashion. Having selected his spot, he proceeded to squirm around on the cushions until the ideal combination of recumbency and TV screen positioning had been achieved, before waving the remotes in a lordly fashion at the screen.

He has it all sussed, this lad. And I fear that Night, upon her sombre throne, folding her black wings above the darkening world, has a snowball’s chance in hell up against Space Pirates in this house.

8 Responses

  1. SUCH a boy! How sweet a story!

  2. Our little one has finally learned 1. that she is tall enough to reach the remote’s hiding place and 2. that if she presses enough (i.e. all) buttons, she will eventually achieve her desired result (TV ON Mommy!)

    But she still likes classical music…

    At least your Harry knows what he wants…and when those children’s programs rhyme, I’m sure he appreciates the poetry!

  3. But you write about it so beautifully! Harry’s preference for Space Pirates is poetry when you describe it this way. It’s like a filling stew of poetry, in fact, and I’m coming away having laughed and feeling so full and good. Sweet Harry!

  4. But maybe Harry (and his ilk – all male? who knows?) perceives some poetry in the intricate interplay of remote buttons that is invisible to those of more artistic mindset. He will do much wild yearning for the unattainable, but probably it will have more to do with not quite being able to reach powertools left on a workbench than it will with sunsets. My kid’s much the same. I try to read him “Baby Matisse” and he knocks it aside in favor of the Tonka truck.

  5. WordPress ate my comment. Waaahhhh!!

    Your young man is very clever 🙂 My twins just dribble on the remotes as yet.


  6. Ah….Three Men In A Boat. Excellent. That part about the tin of pineapple….chortle snort wheeze… Perhaps Harry’s processing the sunset but was too moved in the moment to actually give a display of emotion…

  7. I’m sure I’ve read that the Human Genome Project has looked deeply into this and the absence of an emoting gene on the Y chromosome is the default setting. Or something. Cause I am batting three for three Harris’s in this household. I only ever get to touch the TV remote when none of them are home.

  8. Must press buttons! Mwhahahahah!

    Those of us with a poetic disposition and graceful appreciation of Nature’s wonders are a small and select band, you know. But The Others can learn. In fifteen years I have dragged H from Philistine Cupboard to Aesthete’s Stair Landing and now that he’s got into photography, I hope to roll him down to Artistic Front Hall by 2015.

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