Red Mosquito

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:Perhaps it could provide some pointers

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

tommy wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

How old is he?

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tommy wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

How old is he?

7

doug rr wrote:

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

low cut blouses?

dad wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tommy wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

How old is he?

7

who says you need to let him play?

B wrote:

doug rr wrote:

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

low cut blouses?

No, I wore a Hanukkah shirt.

tommy wrote:

dad wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tommy wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

How old is he?

7

who says you need to let him play?

These days every kid has to play

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tommy wrote:

dad wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:

tommy wrote:

Monkey_Driven wrote:When is it appropriate to hit a child on my son's basketball team? I'm the coach and the kid never listens or does what he's supposed to. He pretended to be a cat for 15 minutes last practice. I'm all for creative expression, but he's going to be a real weak link out there when the games that matter start.

How old is he?

7

who says you need to let him play?

These days every kid has to play

It's mandated by the league.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

spike wrote:

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

womansplaining?

B wrote:

spike wrote:

B wrote:I'm volunteering at my kids' school, and I've had 3 mothers teach me the right way to give cookies to teenagers.

womansplaining?

Mrs. B calls it momsplaining.