They wander freely, outlining curves while you babble consonants to invent
words you truly believe exist, repeating them as I marvel at you.
The way you flap your arms and bounce excitedly when we see someone or
something you love. Your jaw tightens to embrace the smile you can’t hold back.
Your truth-telling voice denouncing my cooking as ‘stinky’ each time I
make you something you don’t like.
Your encouragement and faith that I can do things for you, even if I fail
the first time.
You ask for the balloon on top of the kitchen cupboard and when I tell you
I cannot reach it, you cuddle my leg and ask again, pointing to a nearby chair,
reminding me to slow this life down and find solid steps for plans before
dismissing the possibilities.
Your toes reflexively curling around my finger while we snuggle as the
early morning fog settles on the field outside your window.
The increased volume and pitch of you saying “PLEASH?” when you
have found something you want.
Giggles. Just giggles.
Your latest obsession with farewelling the dregs of the bath water,
whether you have just been bathed or not.
“Bye bye, bath!” morning, noon, night.
The search in your eyes when you hear your Daddy’s car pull up
in the driveway.
The thud of whatever you were playing with hitting the tiles,
followed by the pitter patter of your feet bolting towards the
door to greet him.
An incessant cry of “Abby!” when you’re going “Uhshairsh!”,
which doesn’t stop until your beloved dog is by your side, climbing
the stairs too.
Your curiosity and beautiful uncertainty of unfamiliar faces and
places, and your unashamed hiding behind our legs at times like these.
Naps together. Just naps.
Fingertips clutching as many grapes as possible and your cheeks
smuggling just as many.
The glisten of grape juice rolling down your chin.
Chords you’ve created while strumming the strings of my guitar,
simultaneously smooching your face against the fret board.
The joy you exert when you realise you’ve created “moogic”.
Your Daddy’s features, overcoming you as you grow, becoming
more defined with each passing hour.
Your Mummy’s clumsiness, evident still.
You have frustrated me more than I expected, but only because
I love you more than I thought was possible.
I have cried rivers believing I am not the mother I hoped to be,
yet I now realise no matter what mother I think I am (or am not),
I am the only Mother you want.
I have stressed and despaired to no end, wondering why this
mothering gig is such hard work for me.
The thing is, you see, it is never easy making something so perfect.
I love you with every inch of myself, and vow to forever do so.