Apr 092014

My very small son

Reaches a hand up

And grasps the couch cushion

From his seated position

On the floor.

I can see where this is headed:

A mighty fall,

But I leave him to it,

Knowing he will learn.

He reaches his other hand up

To the couch cushion

And uses those stringy, weak,

Nine months in the womb muscles

To pull himself standing.

He cackles

As he is prone to do these days,

Displaying two immature bottom teeth.

His joy makes him want to clap,

So he tries and tumbles

In a mighty fall

With an audible thunk

For his head.

He makes noises louder than I thought

A child his size could

And water seeps from his eyes.

I hold him, set him back to a seated position

On the floor.

He reaches up a hand to grasp

The couch cushion

And we begin again.


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