The boy was really looking at me . . . like really looking at me. Even when I wasn't talking . . . As if he was in contemplation of me. It was as if he knew that I was someone he ought to know well. As if I was someone important.
He took extended looks at each of the several faces around the table. Perhaps it was all so new to him, the many and unfamiliar faces. He was taking it all in. He will process it all later. When he goes to sleep. He will dream. That’s what babies do.
Jayme and Michelle were pretty sensitive to his pensiveness. He was still a bit teary eyed. Apparently he’d been crying before Pop Pop and I had gotten there.
He took extended looks at each of the several faces around the table. Perhaps it was all so new to him, the many and unfamiliar faces. He was taking it all in. He will process it all later. When he goes to sleep. He will dream. That’s what babies do.
Jayme and Michelle were pretty sensitive to his pensiveness. He was still a bit teary eyed. Apparently he’d been crying before Pop Pop and I had gotten there.
Safe in his daddy’s arms, he sat beside me. Throughout dinner, he had a firm grasp on one of my fingers. I hadn’t quite finished when hastily, I just had to drop my fork off to the side of my plate so I could cup my free hand around the tiny hand that was clutching my finger.
Oh how I felt the fingers of that tiny fist that was wrapped around my right index finger. Ever so gently, yet with great passion, I tried to telepathically absorb every sensation. I could feel the bends of the tiny phalanges. Working the palmar of my fingers, I committed the sensations to memory.
Oh how I felt the fingers of that tiny fist that was wrapped around my right index finger. Ever so gently, yet with great passion, I tried to telepathically absorb every sensation. I could feel the bends of the tiny phalanges. Working the palmar of my fingers, I committed the sensations to memory.
After dinner, I sat next to my Jayme on the couch. I took JJ from him . . . Yet only five months old, the child likes to stand . . He just didn't want to sit, he insisted on standing. His feet pressed firmly into my upper quads. Although I was supporting him, every now and again, it seemed his knees gave way. I'd have to lift the solid body. Like a kneading cat, he worked his feet into my thighs, as to readjust himself. After I got home that evening, I could still feel those little feet pressing into my quads !!! Perhaps the vastus mediales and or the satorius had atrophied, they were sore !!! Lol.
Once again, he'd push himself erect, stand tall and gaze purposefully. I recall him looking toward the dining room. He seemed to rather enjoy the activity I felt so incredibly privileged to have such an endearing experience with this young child. Thus, I took him over to Michelle's grandpa. He had only observed the boy from afar. Earlier that evening he noted the boy's mellow disposition during dinner. I just had to give him the opportunity to feel the same unique sensation on his legs. I supported the child as he naturally stretched his legs out to stand. I positioned the child so that his feet would press into Pop Pops lap as they had done to mine.
As if it were part of a plan, Michelle's dad captured a photo of the child with his great grand father !!!
Priceless !!!!
😀
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