Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Enjoy them while they're little

Every morning when my five year old son gets on the school bus, he quickly makes his way to the window so he can see me wave to him. Enthusiastically and without any reserve or inhibitions he waves back to me till the bus drives out of site.
My son is pretty independent and likes to be in control and do as much as he can by himself. He also has very little patience for physical displays of affection. However, when it comes to leaving me for a couple of hours, suddenly he becomes affectionate.
Every day when I wave back to him, I get emotional, thinking that it won't be long till he will be embarrassed to wave to his mommy from a school bus window.

Parents, enjoy your kids while they're still yours! Develop a relationship with them while they still trust you and love you unconditionally. Then maybe, if you're lucky, your kids will have a little soft spot for you when they pass those cute years.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Winter Wonder

Winterscapes by Uriy Ivukin

Winter morning

by Alexander Pushkin
Translated into English by Mikhail Kneller

Cold frost and sunshine: a day of wonder!
     But you, my friend, are still in slumber--
Wake up, my beauty, time belies:
You dormant eyes, I beg you, broaden
Toward the northerly Aurora,
As though a northern star arise!

Recall last night, the snow was whirling,
Across the sky, the haze was twirling,
The moon, as though a pale dye,
Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.
And there you sat, immersed in doubts,
And now, -- just take a look outside:

The snow below the bluish skies,
Like a majestic carpet lies,
And in the light of day it shimmers.
The woods are dusky. Through the frost
The greenish fir-trees are exposed;
And under ice, a river glitters.

The room is lit with amber light.
And bursting, popping in delight
Hot stove still rattles in a fray.
While it is nice to hear its clatter,
Perhaps, we should command to saddle
A fervent mare into the sleight?

And sliding on the morning snow
Dear friend, we'll let our worries go,
And with the zealous mare we'll flee.
We'll visit empty ranges, thence,
The woods, which used to be so dense
And then the shore, so dear to me.

Aleksander Repin

Vladimir Krulov

Vladimir Zhdanov