I hold him in my arms,
watching his small face smile.
He plays with his hands,
pointing and trying to talk.
He laughs when I tickle him,
he squirms when I have to change him.
He doesn’t smile when he’s hungry,
he stares at the kitchen.
He holds my finger and he pulls me
to see his toys,
his mess,
and to get something
from up high.
I hold him high above me,
he holds out his hands,
and pretends to be a plane.
He can fly.
He knows when he’s in trouble,
“Uh oh,” he says to me.
The angel in my eyes.
He walks tipsy,
bumping in to walls,
tripping over toys.
But he laughs
and gets up
to walk again.
His laughter makes me laugh,
his playfulness brings us closer.
He mimics the sound of a car,
when he plays near me.
He can jump
and mimics all of the songs.
“Bye bye,” he says,
sweetly,
waving his hand above his head,
or blowing a kiss.
Then he runs to me,
to hug me.
He is shy.
I pick him up in my arms
and take him to his bed.
He drinks his bottle,
he tells me a story with his little hands.
Slowly,
his eyes close.
Recharging for a new day.
Guess, I should say that I am not a mom. This one was inspired by my mom and my little brother. It dedicated to all of the beautiful moms who love and care for their children.
What do you think?