Tuesday, April 12, 2011



[i sketched this into a notebook during a boring Theater 101 lecture on the post date; just typing it in months later.]

it's hard to keep up with you. god knows how many different babies have come and gone while i'm trying to make time to write. i keep thinking, now you're turning into a kid. no, now! okay, but now for real!

it's true. in the last three weeks it's been harder to see you as a baby. even though someone with a three year old told me recently that there's not-a-baby, and then there's really-not-a-baby; you think that baby's not a baby, and then you realize that your preschooler actually isn't one. i think she sort of meant, don't give it away prematurely. i do still nurse you while you're in my arms, i hold you, i rock you.

but your'e also walking, and you are babbling and communicating (clapping since 8 mos! walking since a week ago), and: you are very large.

you are outgoing. sometimes you tottle right into someone's space and i want to remind you that some people are going to need their bubbles. you are happy, and sometimes i twinge because even though it's gratifying, you might not always be. i don't want to identify you with something so precarious. or, really, actually i just hope you're always more happy than not, or that you always have access to it. it's such a large thing, and such an impossible hope.

mostly, though, i try to ride the wave. you're a good ride, you are, and i'm practicing taking it in strice.

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