Multiples

Clusters, pairs, series, groupings. We have multiples in the house. In our holiday / winter illness cocoon, we’ve invented games and art projects to keep ourselves entertained.  On Wednesday night I gathered up piles of treasure hunt clues made from red construction paper. Yesterday while I was at work, the children and their dad made nine small cannonballs out of aluminum foil.  Never ones to exalt weaponry, we later used them to festoon a pink didgeridoo fashioned from a wrapping paper tube.

Interior designers espouse the merits of multiples in room layout.  A cluster of similarly-scaled pictures grouped together can create a pleasing graphic effect on a wall. And the use of identical nightstand lamps is a simple way to establish balance in a bedroom.

During one of our few retail outings this week, my children stumbled upon a line of toys that employs the magic of multiples. Before we went in the store, I laid out the ground rule of our visit: “Santa just came, so we’re only looking today.”  Before long my son and daughter were sprawled across the store’s sun-drenched carpet, mesmerized by two simple, kinetic toys. In one, identical droplets of green oil fell from a reservoir and rolled down ramps submerged in water. In the other, colorful oil drops fell into four quadrants of water and spun tiny paddle wheels.

I joined my children in the sun to get a better look. There was something deeply calming about the busy assembly-line activity of the oil spheres as they passed through their Lucite chutes. I caved and bought one of each toy. On our way through town that morning, the streets were nearly empty. The second half of December, though joyous, is also a no-man’s land where the rituals of individual families trump society’s regular rhythms. It’s a welcome anomaly to daily life–but one that’s veined with anomie.