this is my nephew, who came up to visit with his cousins and siblings to have a bonfire cookout in the backyard. it was their first camping experience, and i'm glad they got to experience the wildlife of st. catharines. ryan, pictured, stepped out of the safari for bit though, and came up to look at some books. he pulled out the collected poems of wilfrid laurier and began finger painting dactyls with the saliva of gob stoppers. the book, which is actually a compendium of papers stuffed in a manufactured envelope, a jack-daw, formally, fluttered about the room, thrilled. it crash landed on a northrop frye text, cowering beneath a clown mask, shivering in the slumbers of exaggerated smiles. ryan saw through the ruse and fed papers and open-tipped markers down the stairs, that both might meet each other as needs dictate.

he turned, on cue, and with an ironic twang sang to me the proletariat theme-song of youth, 'i'm a big kid now.'

here is another photo of him and his sister, in leopard-skin glory, just before bed.