Mini me (Part 2)

I only really have one baby picture of myself in the house, which is the same one featured in the 'senior class baby picture' section of my senior year yearbook. But I thought I'd have a look to see how Seren and I compared around the same age. What do you think?

Left - Steven Malone (circa 1973) Right - Seren Malone (Feb. 2008)

Mini me

It's weird how genes get passed on from one generation to the next. From as long as I can remember people have always said I looked like my dad, and I have to admit it's true. You can see the resemblance between us at similar ages in photographs, and as I've grown older I think I've grown to look more like him. But it's not just my dad I have things in common with. I have a similar profile to my grandad on my mum's side. When he was in the war someone drew and cut his profile out of black card which we have framed at home. I used to tell people it was me and they believed me. The resemblance was that uncanny. I also apparently have his feet.

Dad and Seren

So, we were curious to see who Seren might look like. The first time I saw her I thought she looked a little like my dad, or my brother's kid Max, but also a little like Laura's brother Nathan. But it wasn't a striking resemblance by any means. Neither Laura or I saw any strong likenesses to ourselves though, and I'm not sure we do yet. But recently a few people seem to think that she looks like me, or my dad, or Max, which is actually more or less the same thing as we all look a little alike.

Me an my nephew Max

I guess she's still too young to tell yet, and she'll change a lot. One thing's for sure though, she's got her mother's feet.

The Mice Strike Back

The mice are back. Just when we'd thought we'd maybe seen the last of them for the winter they've reappeared, and they seem to be braver than ever. We first starting noticing their droppings in the usual spots. Then some unusual spots. Then we could hear them, first rustling, then squeaking. Then we caught sight of them a couple of times, in the kitchen, and even in the living room. Tonight I saw two on separate occasions, first the parent and later a little baby mouse. We've laid some poison so we're hoping that the parent might be dead and the baby's been driven out from hunger. It's sad, but the other traps don't seem to be working. They even set one off tonight without getting trapped. Noooo, that's not true...that's impossible!

Aesop's Fables

I bought a book on Aesop's Fables a while ago to read to Seren while she was still in the womb. I'd read somewhere that, from a certain stage, babies can hear your voice from inside, and that, if you read to them, it could help familiarise them with the sound of your voice.

When I was in 5th grade we had to base a project on an Aesop Fable. I was assigned one which had something to do with a dancing frog. That's all I remember; that, and cutting my finger on a pairing knife when constructing my card board 'cineramic story-teller'. (I ran my finger down the blade to show my brother how blunt it was. Little did I realise that my mum had just sharpened it.) Strange how certain things stay with you.

Everyone probably knows a few Aesop fables. They're over 2000 years old, so it's inevitable (The Hare and the Tortoise anyone?) I was surprised by how many stories sounded familiar. There's one in particular that I remember quite vividly from my childhood which, in the spirit of storytelling, I though I'd share with you. You too may well recognise this, but I'm going to share it anyway!

The Wind and the Sun

The wind and the sun once had an argument as to which was the stronger of the two, and they agreed to settle the issue by holding a contest: whoever could make a traveler take off his coat first would be recognized as the most powerful. The wind began and blew with all his might until he stirred up a blast, cold and fierce as an Alaskan storm. The stronger he blew, however, the tighter the traveler wrapped his coat around him and clasped it with his hands. Then the sun broke out, and with his welcome beams he dispersed the clouds and the cold. The traveler felt the sudden warmth, and as the sun shone brighter and brighter, he sat down, overcome by the heat, and threw his coat on the ground.
Thus the sun was declared the winner, and ever since then, persuasion has been held in higher esteem than force. Indeed, sunshine of a kind and gentle manner will sooner open a poor man's heart than all the threats and force of blustering authority.

I love the stories because they all have some wise moral at the end - which can sometimes even be a little sinister and shocking.

I still haven't found the story about the dancing frog. Plenty of stories about frogs, but none of them seem to dance. I'll let you know when I find it.