Your disproportions

My dear son,

I take a million pictures of you. I want to bottle you up and store you away, because you are already growing too quickly.  You have almost tripled your weight in these short months, and soon you will be too big for my arms.

I can’t stop staring at you, when you sleep, when you smile, when you kick your legs, when you raise your head. When you were even smaller than you are now, you fed and slept like an old man. After filling your tummy, you would hold your forearms to the sides of your face and stretch your neck. Your eyelids were too heavy from sleep to open, so you’d just raise your eyebrows.

When you were seven days old, I couldn’t bring myself to let your Nena cut your hair.  I loved how your hair looked wet and clung to your forehead. I loved how straight it was, even though I always wanted you to have Baba’s curly hair.  That day I cried for you—though for other reasons—and let your Nena shave your head.  Your hair has grown back now, by and large. Even the shape of your head is different.

When you were first born, you had a heavy row of very very short eyelashes. No longer than two millimeters, but the lashes were very close together. For a while, you had the most beautiful grey eyes. We had no idea where that came from, but they were soft grey and melted my heart. They are changing slowly. A bit of brown has crept into your right eye, and maybe soon they will be even darker.

Your face still takes up only the lower part of your head.  And looking at you from a low angle, I can see a perfect circle enveloping your face.  You are a perfect circle to me.  There is a video of your cousin J when he was about 4 months old, and he was waking up from sleep at Grandmas. He had his little hands to his face, grabbing, scratching at his eyes.  Both his hands did not even cover a small part of his face.  The disproportions made me melt, and now I see that with you too.

It’s hard to believe I’m a mother to an almost-toddler who makes me laugh everyday with his gummy grin and soundless clapping. It both thrills and scares me that soon everything in that last sentence will change, as your teeth cut through and you find the coordination to align your hands to make noise.


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