Tanning with Baby Oil

Parenting is a process of entering ever higher echelons of a secret society. This society is full of knowledge beyond compare. As esoteric as the Sufi's, this knowledge is available only to the initiates. And there is only one sort of high priest or priestess that can fire brand you with this knowing: your own child.

Along these lines, other devotees proffer aphorisms like, "It goes so fast." What does that mean? Have children, you will know.

Recently, I've been offered this kernel from other knowing bicameral (or more!) parents, i.e. those with TWO. They point out that one of the reasons we as humans have more than one offspring is to return to that pulpy place of baby-parenthood; that place where our children are but chub and cuddles and toothless grins, when they demand nothing more than to eat and be held, when they haven't the foggiest notion of talking back and when they stay where ever they are put. This is told to me, of course, while the teller is staring down into Mette June's cherubic gob, making faces ten times funnier than hers.

I realize, of course, they're absolutely right. Bindi is a total woman now. Breathtaking most of the time is the only way to really describe it. And Mette June fosters again that feeling in us of possessing angel fat, of sunning ourselves coated in Cupid grease. We are taken back. And all this while we are so forcibly tied to the moment and ever going forward. Parenthood eclipses all as we star gaze our children

So in this vein, I delved into the archives and fished this up. Don't it take you back?: Young Bindi Movie It'll take a minute to load up - cause I haven't figured out the proper compression - but it's high res and pretty. As I said, it's pure conjured history.