It’s funny how you don’t realise how much you love something until it’s gone. An old trope, sure, but no less true for all that. The Girl had a bit of a development leap leading up to last night and when she woke up this morning things were different. She could track movement better and focus more quickly.
I watched her in her bouncy chair and whilst I was proud of her new achievements something seemed to be missing, and then I realised, she wasn’t kicking any more. I love the way little babies kick reflexively with funny little jerky movements that they just can’t help. I never appreciated it properly with The Boy, too impatient for him to grow up and reach the next milestone. With The Girl it’s different. I want time to slow down, I appreciate every moment of her babyhood, each second of it – each frantic kick – is precious.
With sadness I took her out of her bouncy chair and gave her a feed. I looked into her beautiful dark blue eyes as she smiled at me, completely focused on me, I sighed as I laid her down in her Moses basket whilst I got breakfast for the boys, and then I smiled as her blanket started to pulsate it’s way off the basket, propelled by her fast, furious, jerky little kicks. There’s still plenty of babyhood left yet, and I’m appreciating every fragment of it.
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