Pit Stop
He runs around the house the way a lost count does in his castle
Growing hands press on the recliner's arm,
he bounces up and down on an invisible pogo stick -
shrieking phrases from dora the explorer
When you plead with him to stop, or slow down, he does not hear
Next is a sprint from the living room to the back door,
using a foot stool as a balance beam for his belly
Hands and feet on the ground, he's up again
With a sudden pause at the refrigerator, a six pack of yogurt is pulled out,
The boy walks it to the dining room table and sits,
waiting for someone to open one small tub and bring him a spoon
This is as still as he has been in two hours
I wait to bring him the spoon, on purpose, not to starve or punish him,
but to appreciate these few moments of quiet,
which stop the moment I hear the yogurt go into the trash,
followed by the metal clink of the spoon falling carefully into the kitchen sink
2 comments:
Hey, you're half way.
I'm appreciating this window into your life with your son. Quite visceral for me as reader.
- nammu
Thanks, it's all downhill from here :)
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