My Bean is a mover, always has been. He shimmied all night long in my belly, learned to crawl at six months, and now never walks but runs, skips and hops.
And yet. Every now and then even this little shaker has to stop moving. When it all gets a bit too much, he grabs his blanket and his dummy, maybe a furry friend for company. He climbs onto the sofa, demands a video on Mama’s “puter” and there he stays, all done for the day (or at the very least until someone puts something interesting on the dining table).
And yet. Every now and then even this little shaker has to stop moving. When it all gets a bit too much, he grabs his blanket and his dummy, maybe a furry friend for company. He climbs onto the sofa, demands a video on Mama’s “puter” and there he stays, all done for the day (or at the very least until someone puts something interesting on the dining table).
There are other signs too, that this creature appreciates life’s little comforts. When sat on the sofa or curled up next to me in bed, he’ll dig his feet under my legs so they’re extra toasty. I do that with Mr. P&P. He’ll stroke a fleece jumper or a furry collar, smile at me and say “soft!”. He’ll work his way through a scoop of ice cream in silence and with dogged determination, until there’s not a dribble left. He’ll crunch and munch through a plate of “flornflakes” in front of a video on a Sunday morning, the only time when screens and eating are allowed to mix in any way.
It makes me smile, when I see him monging out and cosy like this. I stare at his little face and think: good for you, little boy.
It makes me smile, when I see him monging out and cosy like this. I stare at his little face and think: good for you, little boy.
Everybody needs time to just do sweet nothing, to curl up under something soft and warm. To say, the rest of the world will just have to wait. Good for you, little boy, that you’ve figured this out already. Goodness knows Mama could take a tip or two from you.
Come say hello:
