I Have No Idea What’s Going On In This Picture. But I’m All For It!

This is James. James the Fifth. And he’s looked pretty much like this  — off-and-on, but-mostly-on — for a couple of days now. And I’m going to allow it. In fact, to be honest, I’m actually encouraging it. Just a little.

First off, because I have glasses, so a fellow framerer in the house is fun. Makes me feel like less of a nerd; a little less. Second, because Sarah and I are always amused when people wear glasses without corrective lenses (especially in movies or TV. No bending around the edges.) But third (and perhaps most importantly), it’s because it captures one of the things that makes James so very, very James-y.

As a parent, I’m constantly amazed (and, frequently, bewildered) by how different the boys are from one another. “Same genetic material,” I tell myself. But that’s about as far as “same” goes. And in the grand schem(atic) of the Susanka Seven(+1), James is the Self-Amuser. The one who doesn’t need much (or, often, anything) to keep himself occupied. In this case, a pair of plastic glasses (without arms or lenses) and some twine were more than enough to do the job. Well, a pair of frames, some twine, and a wide (and sometimes terrifying) range of facial expressions. And an enormous imagination.  (I’m detecting a strong hint of Sherman in there. Anyone else?)

The glasses are a nearly perfect encapsulation of who he is: The Boy Who Amuses Himself. The boy who recently (and nonchalantly) told his mother that “When I’m drawing, half of my mind is in a dream world” — a claim very much born out by the reams and reams of fantastical drawings that pour from his pencil. Or the boy who came around the corner of our local grocery store, found himself in the florist department and said in whispered wonderment: “Well, this is a feast for the eyes.” The one who was sitting on a chair in the living room this very morning with those very same glasses, glowering. And when asked to explain himself, reported that he was “the principal” and Cormac was his wayward pupil (that last is a role which requires little-to-no imagination, actually). Or the boy who wandered through the kitchen moments earlier on his knuckles explaining to me that “I’m a gorilla. Not Gorilla Grodd, though. Just a regular gorilla.”

Of course, James, you wonderfully whimsical boy; of course. Not sure there’s anything “regular” about that, really. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Attribution(s): These are mine.