When I was pregnant with Ivy, Keith and I went on one of our meandering camping trips in Mum and Dad's campervan. We were stopped at some country market when I - drawn like a rotund magnet to all things baby-related - got chatting to a woman with a little boy.
Thinking back, he would have been Teddy's age. As we talked, she constantly - and without stopping her flow of conversation- chased and retrieved him as he ran in various directions, at full speed. Chase, bend, hoist onto hip, place on ground, chase, bend, repeat.
He was cute.
She was happy.
I was horrified.
How am I going to do that, I thought? With my rickety back? How? How?
I didn't think of that woman again through Ivy's toddler-hood. Ivy would sit and play, sit and read, stop at the side of the road. Her lunatic qualities were expressed in ways other than the physical.
Then I had me a little boy.
Today Ivy, Ted and I had a coffee together to celebrate the kids good behaviour at Pixifoto- oh my lord, more on that later. (Advice required.) Ivy painted her face with baby-cino, talked of various subjects of interest (masks, skulls) and made Spot talk in a squeaky voice to the senior couple two tables over.
Ted ran his fat little legs off. He ran at the door. He ran at the other tables. He ran; giggling, looking behind himself with thrilled expectancy that Mum would chase and yes! she chased! So he ran faster! Finally I strapped him into a high chair. Once he had caused an obscene amount of mess with milk and muffin, he managed to detach the seat and send it crashing to the floor.
And me, I was fine. A little haggard, yes. Crumby and milk-stained: sure. The pity object of a horrified first-time pregnant woman: possibly.
Actually, I was better than fine.
I was happy. I felt lucky to be blessed with a healthy and spirited boy-child, one who shouts 'Mine! Mine!' in his sleep, and insists, always, on 'more'. 'More what?' I ask him. 'Yes!' he agrees.'More what! More what! More what!'
He runs full-tilt at life, this fluffy-nutted child, and I'm deeply satisfied, somehow, knowing that he can take life at such a gallop because he's learned that Mum and Dad will be there to chase and catch him, every time.
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Beautiful! You capture it so so well!
ReplyDeleteLove it! I actually posted the other day about my 14mth boy running down our busy street and then escaping from daycare, luckily Mr 2 decided to be quite subdued that particular day :)
ReplyDeletei too have the pleasure of sharing my time with a little boy. said boy has too speeds- full on or asleep!
ReplyDeletemore often than not i get the 'oh you poor thing' looks from various members of the public, and on the odd occasion people will feel so compelled that they say it. hmmmmm!
i consider myself, like you soooo lucky to have a child who shares our enthusiasm for life and to whom everything! and i mean everything is exciting. lifes greatest joy!
Teddy and Amy are so getting married. They can go running together - he with muffins and milk; and she with her mouth wide open and voice on, just to see what sounds come out.
ReplyDeleteI love how you just embrace it. Go mama!
ReplyDeleteWe know Rosie was a girl from early on. She was head down, ready to go and very chilled in the belly. We both thought she was WAY to well behaved to be a boy baby!
Really beautiful. Love this post.
ReplyDeleteyou write so beautifully you mske me want to have boy children xx
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