Now Emma home sick. Wife coming home at noon so I can make classes, prep a bit. Know just what to speak on, today. But this morning, I feel like I haven’t written in days… which isn’t true. Wrote yesterday in little notebook… just another night of disrupted sleep and a sick little girl that has the writing daddy a-wobble. But I hold the mold of a fanatical diarist, addicted jotter, writing my book even when tired and even when heart still recovers from seeing little Ms. Austen get sick. But now, she’s her usual playful, incredibly sweet self. She stands on her singing chair and I ask her gently get down. I look up at the playing cartoon, and think of my day’s lectures…. I think, ‘Attitude’. But then I don’t realize I’m not liking the word, or the possible connotations. ‘Perspective’…. What a perspective entails, how its built… associated with ‘world view’, one’s view of the world around them and how they believe the world around them influences their own identity and story. This will be especially useful with Plath and the shorter pieces in the book I selected for English 100.
Emma becoming more silly and with precise humor and mimicry as the morning goes. Needing coffee, I tell her “Okay baby, one more cartoon then we’re going to get coffee for daddy. Okay?” I think she said, “Alright.” But it’s hard to tell. I wonder what her perspective is, this little beat… what she think about right before she goes to sleep, when I’m drinking her to school, while she watches this episode of Arthur. She laugh and say something unintelligible, then “Dada…. DADA!!!… Mama…” Laughs at her own words then takes a sip of water from her owl sippy cup. MY perspective, changed. By her, her brother…. I’m a writing papa…. everything I write is with them in thought-consumption. Know exactly what my classes will entail for today, thanks to Ms. Austen.