He pulls his legs up and flop-flop-flops,
they gleefully thump the ground.
With an open, toothless grin, he ska-waaks,
delighted that he has been found.
I scoop him up from his little blue chair
and smash lips to his squishy cheek.
I breathe in baby soap and pears,
planting three kisses to hear him squeak.
We laugh and blow raspberries, our own secret chat.
His hands sloppily seize my chin,
locking my face and requiring that
I stay in this moment with him.
And I wonder if the adoration I see
is my baby boy mimicking me.
I was playing with my boy and the moments turned into words which turned into a Shakespearean sonnet. Thanks to my sister-in-law, Shalee Jenkins, for the stunning photos of my baby boy.
Find me later this week when I post some slam poetry about being a mother. With the help of the very talented Laura Crandell, we're recording tomorrow. Wish us luck! You won't want to miss it.