Strawberry boy


I watch him on the monitor and wonder how long he’s been awake. He chews on his sleep sack.

I knock on the door and say his name softly. He cries out as if he’s being rescued.

I try to nurse him but he doesn’t eat. He wiggles away to play.

I give him a strawberry with his lunch. He squishes it in his hands instead.

I put him in his playpen and sneak away to make coffee. He watches me like a hawk.

I hug him against me for his afternoon nap. He crosses his legs one on top of another.

I unbutton his overalls to change his diaper. He rolls over to his left, then again, and again.

I brush his teeth and wash his face. He tries to kick off his sleep sack.

I put him down in his crib. He scrunches up his face but he can’t fight sleep.

I lean in for a kiss. He lifts his hands to me, and they still smell of strawberries.


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