I don't know where this is.  Maybe the Panama Canal? Taken from the front of the Coral Princess in January 2012.

Des Informations, des Idées, et des Opinions Suspectes - rarement mises à jour et de qualité douteuse.

Nik's Magnetic Personality

Should I be worried?

Picture number 1 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

OK, so a couple of years ago, Patti got me this cool gift for X-mas. It's called magnetic poetry, and it's simply a bunch of words on magnetic backers. You stick them on your fridge and - well you'd be suprised at some of the creative stuff you come up with. Now, I keep the container with the words in a drawer next to the fridge, and the other day, I noticed that not only was the drawer an unholy mess, but the container had also somehow opened and words were strewn all over the drawer. I picked up all of the pieces, took them to the dining room and set about to make another poem for the fridge.

Picture number 2 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Half way, through this task I got a phone call and when I came back the only other person in the house with me, Nik, was there sorting through the words! I remind you he is just two. He cannot even really talk yet; he is still in diapers. As an experiment I pushed all of the words in front of him and decided to see what he would come up with. Like a room full of monkeys eventually typing the complete works of Shakespeare, I figured that eventually we'd see a pre-cursor of Nik's adult personality. In short order, this is what Nik came up with:

Picture number 3 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Seeing that, I really thought I was onto something! Seriously, with just a bit of imagination, you can make out the sentence: "Stop beneath the finger." I mixed the words up again and went to the local bar for a beer. I came back 30 minutes later and Nik's still at it. This is what he had come up with:

Picture number 4 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Wow! in only 30 minutes! Spooky. By this time, Nik had enough and wanted to go watch TV. I firmly sat him back down, put my face inches from his, and then screamed at him as loud as I could until he started moving the words around the table again. 90 minutes later, here's what I saw:

Picture number 5 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Picture number 6 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Ok, I thought that was just a little disturbing. I gathered up the magnets and put everything away, then (more gently than usual) I put Nik on the sofa and gave him a cookie, and put on his favourite TV show (Dora the Explorer.) Then I had a nap. When I woke up, Nik had the magnets back out and had placed the following on the fridge:

Picture number 7 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

Whew. Thank goodness he was back to assembling only gibberish and nonsense. But then I noticed another phrase at the top right-hand corner of the fridge...

Picture number 8 of my son, Nik, playing with Magnetic Poetry at the ripe old age of two.

How the hell did he get up there?! I turned around only to find Nik standing in the doorway to the kitchen, considering me as Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter would consider Ray Liotta just before he ate his brains.

Anyway, when Nik grows up, I think he's going to be just fine.

Nik's Magnetic Personality

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Maybe read No Big Deal, a story I consider to be the very best thing I ever wrote.