The Bronze Age

I have one of my baby shoes, bronzed.  My parents did it, long, long ago.   It looks a little raggedy now--a bit like the guy who once wore it.  My two brothers each had a shoe bronzed, too.  It was the thing to do in the 1940s.  I don't know if people do it anymore, have their kids' shoes bronzed.  Here's a site, though, that still offers the service.  A baby-shoe bronzing site

I'm not even sure why we put shoes on babies, who spend virtually no time whatsoever on their feet.  I don't want to sound harsh--but dressing up a baby with full clothing and shoes is a bit like dressing up your dog, isn't it?  I see dogs around here, their owners having adorned them with odds and ends of human raiment, and I'm not sure whether it looks more funny or pathetic.

I know that we want to humanize our children as quickly as we can.  Get them looking like people and then, maybe, they'll start acting human, too, instead of the way most babies do act.  I know--they can be cute some of the time (when they're sleeping--or oddly happy about something).  But they're often, well, a handful.  Demanding.  They don't understand--or care--if you're tired, sick, busy, depressed, worried, whatever.  They want warm milk--NOW!  They want their rears wiped--NOW!  They want to feel entirely comfortable--NOW!  And if you don't deliver those services, they have mastered some very effective ways to get your attention.

This all came about because a reader responded to yesterday's piece about what to do with a profusion of books with some websites that showed ways to convert old books into things like desks land beds and other practical things.  Link: Converting Old Books

I replied that making my old books no longer functional would be a bit like bronzing our children.

Which made me think that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea.  If we could pick a really happy moment with them and then bronze them at that moment, just think ... no surly adolescence! no college checks to write! no unpleasant experiences with future in-laws!

And no grandchildren demanding warm milk and clean rears and ...

Jonathan Swift suggested eating children, but that's a little short-sighted.  Sure, you could have a few good meals, but then what?

With bronzed children out in the garden--playing, looking happy, maybe even singing (you could install a sound system very easily)--you have a perpetual sense of joy when you look at them.

They'll start to flake at some point.  But so will you.  And birds have no respect for anything, either.  Always a problem.

By the way ... here I am at 6 mos wearing the shoes, one of which is now flaking its bronze.  And I confess: I'm glad no one ate me (though I do look, well, scrumptious).  Or bronzed me.