Thursday, June 25, 2015

my boy and his chair

It was pretty intense coming back after 8 solid days in the US, and seeing the change in Sebastian.

Yes. Eight days away from a constantly developing child is a long time.

I got back and already saw that his little face had changed, and he was doing things like HIGH FIVING.
He can high five now, what the fuck?

One of the brits friends taught him. and one of the things I noticed is that more than ever, when you teach him something, it sticks.
Teaching him stuff is so rewarding suddenly - from his high fives, I taught him just on the weekend to touch my finger as a greeting, and now we have this thing that we do where I stick out my finger to him and he touches it.

Like that scene out of E.T:
It is so cute, I literally almost die everytime he does this with me. And a great big grin and giggle envelopes his face.

He also learnt to claim his own throne.
He has a little chair at home that's kind of been sitting there waiting for him to use. I pulled it out, and suddenly, there he was, climing into it and practicing getting on and off over and over again.

He finds the concept of sitting on his own chair so novel, that he now missions off to find his chair and just sit and chill in it every morning.

I find this ridiculously cute, and also sadly, quite grown up. My child is a full-on toddler now.
The other morning, he went to the lounge to play with his toys, and everything went quiet for 5 minutes.

This usually means only one of two things:
1) he is sticking his fingers in the plug sockets;
2) he has taken a crap so large, that he is now smearing it all over the floor

No, in fact, there he was; curled on his chair - with chimney detritis smeared all over his little face - reading a book.
The fantasy every mother toys with before and after having a kid; finding her child, perfectly happy on their own, engulfed in the pages of a book.
 Oh, hai.
 Just on my own, eating a biscuit. On my chair. Self-sufficiently.

 The same thing happened the next day. Off he went, it all went quiet, I wondered whether he was pulling apart the electric cables in the TV cupboard, and instead, was just sitting there.

In his chair, in his onesie, thinking.
 Literally, staring into space having a little daydream.

Fuck me. But the love you feel for your child when he indulges an ultimate fantasy - especially when he is a boy and therefore doesn't usually sit still for more than 4 seconds, nevermind quietly, and in solitude - outdoes anything you ever imagined possible in the world.

Only hours before, was he pulling my hair and screaming, for no reason at all. And loud enough to wake the neighbours.

That is all forgotton when you find him quietly talking to himself, while reading a book.

PS: My boy is still an avid fashion blogger. His mother is still a determined baby stylist. aI hope he doesn't hate me for this one day, but I can only hope he boils it down to "My mother took great pride in all of my outfits."

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