A note from the play mat
The country is in crisis. One too many horrific stories about the shameless disregard for the bodies and lives of our women and children. And in my little microcosm a little boy builds Duplo houses for racing cars which he has to continually move around the carpet because his podgy bottomed seven month old sister has somehow found a way to maneuver her way across the floor, demolishing all signs of construction with fat crab fingers. And the little boy doesn't know that he will have to walk through the quagmire that is gender politics as he is still just dreaming the dreams of knights and horses named 'Jackson'. And the little girl doesn't know that I am going to devote my entire being to making sure that she doesn't feel like she's a victim of her gender. But for now I make 'dippy egg' for supper served with a slice of white bread for 'bessert' and I mash bananas with my fingers and feed them to my open mouthed song bird. All the while