Yesterday morning as I watched Bubba complete push-ups in his crib, I couldn’t get over how big he is. Yesterday evening, as his near-naked body snuggled against me and I picked up a burp cloth to cover him, I couldn’t get over how small he is still.
Mummy has an issue with feet, M. Not yours, or hers or Babas..just feet in general. They’re ugly and sweaty and smell. Their functionality is a miracle, alhamduilah we can run and jump and hop, but the rest of that foot stuff? Not my favourite thing. Yet your feet – they’re a wonder to me. In your toes – kissed every single nappy change – I see growth and development. I see your first unassisted steps as I watch you try persistently to stick that set of toes in your mouth. When I touch those feet, already sweaty in the heat, I remember seeing them for the very first time and thanking God for the blessing of your life. I remember how we counted your toes and marvelled at their smallness. How we watched your nails grow and tried, shakingly, to trim them down again. In those growing toes of yours, (on which hairs already sprout!) I see your future and your past, I feel our here and now. I see the feet of a boy, of a man, and I wonder who he will be. And I kind of forget they’re really feet.