I love that watching a little person do such . . . ordinary . . . things feels like . . . uggh. What does it feel like? It feels like magic . . . mm . . . that’s too generic of a word. But maybe close.
It’s just running about and saying little things and making little demands, but it seems more like watching wonders unfold: someone setting off fireworks; a poof of smoke and something disappearing; two colorless liquids combining to make a glowing, shimmering blue; a bunny being pulled from a previously empty hat. Oh dear. Now my comparisons are just turning ridiculous. But I feel very much like a rapt audience member -- clasping my hands excitedly together, eyes wide with astonishment, mouth oohing and ahhing over impossibilities and wonders.
I know. You’ve read this before. Different words, but the same thing. I keep writing it. Again and again – whether about this child or the others. But, I just want to get it right. I just want to get one exact entry that freezes it. All of it. That takes every feeling and memory and puts them here -- where time can’t steal them; where I can come back and read, 30 years from now, and suddenly have my little ones right there in front of me again; as real as they are at this moment.