Pip and I sit in the nursery, tucked up in the rocking chair for his evening feed, warm, cosy and sleepy after a busy day together. I hold him, bundled up in his soft sleeping bag and watch his eyelids flutter and close, the way his nose wrinkles up a little just before he falls asleep, and the blonde swirl of his hair brushing across his forehead, And just as I think he’s all but fast asleep, a little hand appears, patting back and forth, searching and quite often punching, until he finds my hand, and holds fast, tiny chubby fingers wrapped around mine, the last comfort and security.
When our babies are really tiny it’s their hands that we marvel at isn’t it; so very teeny, with the softest fingers and tiny shell like fingernails. But even when they’re big enough to open the washing machine, big enough to climb onto the dining room table, and even big enough to climb upstairs in the midst of trick or treating, find an iPad and drop it into the bath (naming no names), the hands exploring the world and making all that mischief aren’t very much bigger.
They’ve just got a lot better at pulling him up to the places he wants to go, whether he ought to or not.
I love the way he holds things at the moment; he’ll pick them up between thumb and forefinger but then all the other fingers close in to help, well apart from those pointy little fingers that look like it might be time for a cup of tea.
These pictures are from an early morning garden playtime, because daylight and no rain means garden according to Pip Squeak, and after we’d examined each and every leaf on the lawn (and it’s covered), he turned his attention to the flowerbeds. Well actually, he tried to distract me with beaming smiles, and then shuffled off towards the cosmos the minute he thought I ought to have been looking somewhere else.
Our cosmos grew to at least six foot this year before keeling over into the lawn and it means that the flowers are at the perfect height for curious little fingers. I loved watching Pip’s curiosity come to the fore, and apart from dissuading him from having a taste, it was fun to sit back and watch him try to work out how firmly he could hold the flowers without all the petals coming off, or to hold the stem with one hand so that the other could deliberately pull them off.
Right now, Pip at fourteen months seems so very big to me, especially in a week where I got to cuddle a newborn, and I think I forget that for all the growing he’s done since he was born, there is so much more still to come, that one day my tiny boy will be big and strong and probably several inches taller than me, and it will seem impossible that once his hands were ever so small.
Though somehow, and if he’s anything like his father, and if that cheeky expression is anything to go by, I think the mischief making may only just have begun!
joining in with The Ordinary Moments