Tykes and Trikes

Shane posing as a sleeping child

Shane was released from the hospital nine days ago. She left with a wheelbarrow load of medicines – double her measly 5 kilograms of body weight - and a regimen that included vitamins three times a day, antibiotics four times daily starting at 6AM, and an aerosolized medication for opening the airways, thrice daily.

Tricyle - The Philippine taxi.

Shane and her mom, Stephanie, moved in with us. It was our idea. They are both very thin. Maybe we can help put some meat on their bones.

 It’s nice having them there. Shane is cute and loveable, stumbling her little self around the rooms; practicing her version of walking: a wide-stance, sumo-like, diaper-straddling forward ambulation, with the staggering gate of an over-indulged inebriant. Her mom  is easy-going and pleasant, singing her way through the hours of the day. She laughs easily and is a great help around the house.

 The little tyke is still getting used to Uncle Mark. I have three strikes against me, from her point of view. I'm a foreigner. "Alien" is a better word. A human being, to a one year-old Filipino, has black hair, brown skin, a short nose and Asian eyes.  A bald, blue-eyed white dude is too far outside the bell curve of what constitutes homo sapiens. I also use a strange language - more proof of my alien status. And my glasses are just plain strange. People she knows don't wear 'em.

Family size

We had our motor scooter converted to a tricycle. Making it big enough for the four of us, the sidecar is attached to the bike with bolts and welds. The third wheel is a 13" car wheel. I had the headlights installed but they aren't hooked up yet. I thought about a sound system, but most of our travel is by the sea, and the sound of the ocean is the best background music for vistas of white-capped, aquamarine waves and swaying palm trees.