This kid with his blond mop of curls
and dogged determination to always have just one more grape.
Master of complicated gibberish that ends with a sweep of the voice to a higher octave like a bird
whose faces are no longer parroting but his own take on smiles
laughter, misery and complaint...
This kid with my heart in his sweaty palm,
bubble soap landing like lace between strands of peach.
Who daily wakes me with an impatient tug on my shoulder
and points at a pile of books he might peruse while we wipe the sleep from our eyes
reading them to himself
laughing at his own storytelling
and tossing them indiscriminately about the bed and floor
with surprising strength for six a.m...
This boy testing the limits of 'no' and curating a constant verbal wish list
of Elmo and walks and his best friend Nathaniel and rice cakes and showers with Daddy
and one more reading of Fox in Socks...
this baby who is no longer baby at all, really, but a small human conducting ten thousand important experiments a day that counted together determine his relationship with the world
the mathematics of the soul.
who wriggles from my grasp and points to the horizon like a thousand explorers before him
who keeps me on my toes
and yet gives me graces like he gives kisses,
generously and with lots of slobber...
who hates naps and loves strawberries
who gives my life double the meaning it once had...
This one is mine.