MKM, my darling baby boy,
this morning, you’ve spent as long standing as you have sitting, crawl-running around and tugging on my leg. And by standing I mean on two feet, by yourself, no support, no wobbles, nada; just you, two flat feet and a standing posture! Nice work babyone!
When did you grow so tall? When did your hair morph from baby fluff into the softest mass my fingers leave tracks through when I stroke it? How did you learn to be such a boy while you’re still a baby yet?
As I sit and I watch you explore your newly acquired skills, amazed at yourself, wide-eyed and unsure, I think again, I love this child. I think again how blessed we are to have been given our son, how precious every second is with you. And though you may be accelerating your age with the spinach that you eat and the tricks you learn so fast and though my ear drums are pierced by the screams you’ve taken to shouting, you are still my baby, little dude.
You’re my baby in the way you give me your fingers to eat when my body is nourishing yours…and laugh as I tell you they taste of strawberries and chocolate and peanuts and cream; houmous and carrots and sesame seed.
in the belly-laughs when i tickle your belly whilst blowing on your neck
in the innocence of your hiding behind a scarf or a hand, oblivious to the fact we can see you still.
Though you now stand and almost walk, so many babyisms remain.
the way you still need me when you wake no matter who else is around
the one finger greeting you give when I’ve gone from your sight
how your hand mesmerises you for five minutes at a time as you wave it and open and close
No matter how fast you grow, Mk Efendi Sir, you’re still my babyone.
Love you more each day x