I’ve been sat watching my smoochie for the
Past two days, since Father’s Day in fact,
Getting to grips with that bit, trying not
To miss a trick as he sits in his forty five
Degree bouncing seat exploring the
Corners of his world. Amidst gentle
Forest noise and lullabies, and tiny
Toys with chimes inside; reaching for
A Toucan or a Ted and not quite getting
It but stretching the flex of his fingers
Further each time. From side to side, and
Not just fixed as he was before but flicking
His eyes over more and testing the depth
Of his perception as if questioning his
Ever changing world. Twelve weeks
Old and all the trials of life are condensed
Into an hour’s worth of exertion, as I try
My best to leave him be, or slide a highlight
A little nearer to enable him to find a new
Angle of attack, or unpack a new soft toy to
To draw attention, call his strength out.
His neck is stronger, his eyes stay longer
On my face, his system of routine alters
Just a little each day. It’s possible to actually
See human intelligence emerge in all its
Glory, all it primordial necessity, from
The morass of fresh born sights and sounds
And experiences. All the stories of every
Child born are unfolding before my eyes,
And I feel privileged to have witnessed it
These past days, and for the rest of my life.
My H has granted me his grace and God’s.
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