The Pruim Family Portrait 1996

In the center of this literary portrait stands a round-faced, two-year-old boy with warm brown hair and big deer eyes. He's so exuberant about having a literary portrait written about him that he just can't really bring himself to stand still for the occasion. He's recently created a new song which shows up in one of several variations, not unlike this one : Noah, Noah built an ark. Built it, built it. Hickory bark. -- ee-i-ee-i-oo --. With a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there. Noah built an ark! As he begins singing it again for the ever-captive audience (his sister), he cannot suppress the desire to dance and by the next time through he throws up his arms and says, "Sing it, everybody!"

Sharing center position but in a much calmer and less attention-demanding way, is a 7-month-old jewel. Her baby-fine, light brown hair wisps across her forehead, her laughing eyes reflect her contented spirit, and the front of her shirt betrays to all her favorite pastime--drooling. Although she has mastered sitting, she's about to topple as she reaches for the rubber duck that she didn't have the luxury of playing with during last night's bath. (Her brother likes to corral the floating toys and all the bubbles at his end. Being reminded though to share with his sister, he generously poured water on her tummy, on her legs and suddenly a whole cup right over her head. The little princess, however, true to her easy-going nature could not find it in herself to become indignant and instead burst out in a hearty laugh.)

Off to one side sits a bearded fellow with that non-discript hair color that hides a thousand grey hairs. The cookbook lying open next to him, the mathematical equations in the thought bubbles floating above his head, and the make-believe soup he's slurping represent how well he's adapted to being a dad of the nineties. Lying closeby is his trusty workbag containing textbooks for the course he's teaching at Boston U. and an assortment of articles he's working through (an endeavor known as math research).

Relaxing in the papasan chair, a woman with short hair carefully chooses her words, mixes them for the right tone and puts them on paper (inbetween interpretive readings of Dr. Seuss). She's smiling at the very good memories and, although she loves her job at Brown University, she is thankful for a chance to ignore for a while the steady pressures of conference presentations, grant writing, publishing, and teaching.

The cheerful ring of the kitchen timer prompts little Pavarotti to declare intermission just as the rubber duck falls victim to the sitting wonder. "Cookies!" Everyone stops what they're doing, even the littlest one who was just pondering what part of the prize to stick in her mouth first. As one and all gather around the table for warm gingerbread and milk, the Little Conscience of the family blurts out, "WAIT, guys! We gotta pray!" He begins slowly, "Gooowwd, thank you for the cookiiieees. And milk. And Mommy and Daddy....Aaaaand Ankika.... And thank you for Jesus. AAAAAAA- men!"

Merry Christmas and Joy and Peace in 1997!