Oh, Boy(s)

Crayons on walls, dvd's in the sandpit, sand in draws, swims and bumps on the head. Lift you up, first steps, first walks. You don't need my hands to anchor you anymore, but I need you more than you need me.

Gasping for air after bomb dives, then treading water. My little water babies. I lift you up – can’t throw you up in the air like Grand-dat, but hey ...

I remember first rolls and first tentative steps where you swaggered into a walk and let go of my hand.

Nothing better in the world than having you fall asleep on the edge of my chest, your belly heaving. Little arms up to your head, like you’re thinking about how guarded you are going to have to be in this world. Tiny legs like a frog, your head turns into the light.

I wait for your breath to cover me and for fontanelles to quiver. Fists unclench and fingers unfurl as sleep passes through you. Maps on your palms tell me what you worry for and where you have been before you came to rest on me.

For now it’s trucks, dirt and fights with stories of Thomas and cowboys and super-heroes. Matchbox cars from the fairy, trains that must run on time and dancing. You’re good for me. Ice cream dribbles down your chins, splashing down from shirts and legs to icky feet. Sleepy smiles, you’re by far the most beautiful and I'm not biased.

You rub your eyes, open that mouth and yawn. It's about time you’re tired because I am and all I've done is watch you sleep.

There's a very hungry caterpillar. Guess how much I love you?