Alby is now dry at night. (He probably could have been months ago but he held out until we kicked in with some reward box bribery. He is no fool, not sure the same could be said for us.) To keep him dry we wake him around 9.30pm for a late night potty run.
Mark or I will gently rub his back and whisper to him until he rouses, just. We lift him out of bed and help him get sorted. He is barely awake at any point in the process. His eyes stay closed and he is this little, floppy sleepy bundle.
And as he sits I watch him. I stare in wonder at how long his limbs have got, at his skinny little frame, his soft soft skin and I am amazed. Amazed this little man, this perfect, healthy, beautiful little person was made by us, grown in me and is part of my life. And I feel so blessed.
When he was brand new I couldn't take my eyes off him. Feeds were special because I could just sit and stare at his perfect face, stroke his tiny fingers and be mesmerised by him. And I still get to do that with George now sometimes and it is still heaven. But as they grow and get busier and busier, even if we find an odd moment to just sit and stare the chances are they won't be sharing it with us. They will be charging around the house battling fierce baddies or tackling tangfastic challenges with forward rolls, cartwheels and spinny jumps. So we have to be more accepting. Nowadays my wonder moments are accompanied by the night sky, lullabies and Alby peeing. But the wonder of him makes it imperfectly perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment