Love you as I do, there are still times, little men, when both of you are nothing but pains.
Most days you interact nicely, or ignore each other quietly at least, but other day you do nothing but needle, wake to sleep. And most often, on those karmic balance days, you’re both going at each other perched on me. Don’t worry, tiny dears, I’ve found a trick up my sleeve: I sit back on the couch, while you climb and whine around me, pulling at my legs and your hairs, and then watch mesmerised the transformation take place.
As the moon-imbibed children who were cushion fluff pullers nestle down into cushions by my feet. As you read a shared book and make pipe cleaner twirls and match Lego blocks into piles of colour. I sit transfixed and still while you swap shouting and whining, to stroke each other, even smile and hug quickly. And do all of it without making a peep. For an entire twenty minutes if I hold in my breath, I can watch you undisturbed in your bubbles, sit back and see you tune in to yourselves, to each other. Spare minutes in turbulent hours; precious moments locked into floating days.