Otherwise known (starting now) as “solar rectum syndrome”. I was reading this article somewhere, see, about some woman with a little kid, otherwise known as a “baby” and she mentioned that she tried to… not to make it behave, as you can’t make a baby behave, but tried to time said baby’s feeding times and sleep patterns to her restaurant visits, such that said “baby” would not disrupt the dining experience of other diners. And she mentioned that other mothers — especially, in her view, mothers having their first kids over forty (mothers’ age, not kids’ — my mother has her first kid over forty right now, as I was her first kid and am now over forty; what I mean is that these mothers this woman was referring to are over forty when they have their first kid) (this woman felt okay in saying this as she herself was over forty, with a little “baby” but had other kids much earlier) and she said these other women seemed to believe that the sun shone out their children’s asses and they as a result found it cute when these little kids ran around stealing other people’s forks etc. And she tried to avoid being irritating in that way.

It made me wonder whether the sun really shone out my own kids’ asses, as I had always believed, or whether I suffered from SRS and just thought it did.

I suppose both are possible – ones kids can be genuinely exceptional and the parent can still be less than objective.

This occurred to me just now because I caught myself about to type something describing Gamma banging on the piano as sort of Johnny B. Goode decomposed in an elevator by John Cale.

On the other hand, she stood me in front of the piano yesterday and told me which note each key was, and she’s never had a lesson.