Lou's Diary
A little prince, not quite like the others
  Hello, I am a little boy who only sees right with his heart...
Which doesn't make my parent's daily life any easier. So I'm blind and different (mentally speaking).
 
 
 

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Welcome to Lou's blog


This blog was born in french during autumn 2003 and is now progressively being translated in your language.

New articles will therefore appear on a regular basis.
 

DISCLAIMER


... my apologies to the people who hadn't understood this yet, all articles on this website are created and written by myself (his dad).

Lou is currently unable to do it,, just like he is to this day unable to grasp the concept of a "computer", "internet", or to focus for a long period of time on a conversation. Only time will tell us if we manage to integrate him completely in the world in which he lives.

Therefore all stories, despite relating actual facts, are obviously biased by my interpretation of his behavior. But having known him for over five years, I don't think I'm getting it wrong.

Want to know more ? Check out the "read me" page.
 
 

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Thank you to the "Roi Baudoin" foundation ( "Parcours hors pistes" ). The new design, hosting and translations were partially made possible by their financial support.
 
Many thanks to Marco Pappalardo et Laetitia Bouet for the translation.
 

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monday 5 september 2005

118. Chronicles of time passing ... (6)

Lou et l'horlogeGasp! It's been raining all day ... No sunday market with daddy. But I'm comfortable with it and I'm having a great day full of uncontrollable laughters.

Already at 4 a.m. I was in great shape.
When daddy nicely came to tell me I had to sleep, I answered right back : "I don't wanna!".
He said I would be tired tomorrow, that it was night, and that if I didn't want to sleep, I had to let others sleep nonetheless.
I must say I was singing "gho - ghosts" from Henri Dès at the top of lungs, playing drums with my feet against the Fisher Price "awakening board", which has been hanging from my bed's bars since I was a baby ( you know, that plastic board with : a phone that goes "crrr" when you dial, a roll shaped like a rain stick, a little rabbit and a little turtle that race when you push them and make a "tac-tac-tac-tac-tac" sound, a bell, etc... )
I love that thing, it's a point of spatial reference in my bedroom. Besides I do almost all the creative things ... with my eyes closed (obviously!), and with my toes, mind you! Also sometimes - for example that night -, I use it as drums by kicking it. I swear the result is not bad at all : kind of like shaking a shoebox filled with marbles. At 4 a.m., in the quiet of the night, you better believe me when I say the sound is worth it.
Anyway, daddy told me to try to get some sleep and most importantly to stop making noise.

I don't know if I slept, but at 9 a.m., daddy woke up to me discreetly singing. That's right, I got the message. When he walked into the room, we played "weeping chair" (the tickles from article 16), switching roles. Because, big news, now I also tickle others. (as a reaction my parents overdo it, I can tell, but I love to hear them laugh).

Then I had my sunday breakfast with daddy. It seemed like it would never end - I left the table at 11:30 - because we kept talking daddy and me, about the countries, the winter, and most of all Mister RenÈ who kept turning the lawn mower on and off.
Daddy would play the role of the person getting mad at Mister RenÈ (me) every time I would make the sound of the lawn mower being turned on or off. I must say I'm becoming quite good with that kind of imitation, down to the sound of the blades that stop spinning.

After breakfast we played with a toy that used to belong to Eva when she was little, which daddy pulled out from the bottom of a closet and which I especially love : it's a big plastic talking alarm clock that tells you the time when you manually spin the hands.
Daddy explained to me that the hands (the big one and the small one) represent time passing, and therefore hours. I didn't entirely get it, nor did I pay attention because the only thing that really turned me on was hearing the synthetic voice tell the time. I must say one of my favorite sentences at the moment is "what time is it ?". Sometimes even every five minutes when I feel like it. It's just a game though, because I actually don't care at all about what time it is. Need proof ? Last night.
Besides time is a notion that seems so complicated to me, and sometimes so stressful to you, you, the "not-like-me".

So I think daddy, smart guy, will try to explain to me again the concept of time passing, hours, days, etc...
The synthetic voice wakes me up : "it-is-quarter-past-...-seven-". It's time for daddy to join me before I go to bed.

(to be continued)
By Luc Boland :: lundi 5 septembre 2005 at 09:25 :: Day by day :: #138 :: rss


Your comments

I think time is one of the hardest things to understand as a child - I think I must have been 8 or 9 before I stopped asking my parents to tell the time for me.

lundi 12 septembre 2005 at 15:38, comment from Karen :: email :: site :: #
 

;-)

vendredi 16 septembre 2005 at 09:02, comment from Luc :: #
 

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