With V doing a lecture this other evening found myself taking care of our hitherto only young one. Involved briefly messing about with paper cut-out children which we decorated with her coloring pens. As she turned hers over to do the back she accidentally smeared it, as the protective underlay had some color on it. To which effect she almost began to cry, I could tell from her voice. Certainly to the effect of immediately having yours truly smearing his own, so they would be the same. She has me wondering how she came to be such a perfectionist. Neither V nor I have that, and we certainly have never urged her along in this. V once said she was like this in her childhood, but ’twas only related to how her clothes fit her, she would take ages to get dressed. About myself, not much of a perfectinist. Perhaps I’m not the best to evaluate. I seems to recall I sucked at most things as a child, and was happy just to trot along with the rest of the kids. So where does this come from? I know that I like to put myself in situations where the circumstances are what I would declare perfect, yet these are never activities related to personal effort, rather a simple state of mind to go with a movie experience, or a personal reward of some kind. Maybe she picked up on some of this? At any rate there’s little to do but confirm to her that perfect is a cloud in the air and we love her no matter what. And hope it passes, if not now then I’m certain her future school-attending will put a stop to it, given our proper guidance. ~~~ Thus the weekend arrived. Yet another working week, offering no personal time in the evenings. But this late last night turned in some data to honor another deadline, and will now take this evening and the Saturday off. The 46″ Samsung TV arrived, so will set that up and have a blast I’m sure. Hope there’s a kids’ movie playing at the Victoria, will take the kid. Tomorrow Saturday. Am hoping for a quiet day.