So back before I had a baby, I had friends and siblings who had babies. And I was fun for the kids. I would walk in the door, and they would go wild. Jump on me, scream, begin tumbling, climb on my head. Dance, sing, laugh. Fun. I never understood exactly what I did to provoke such behavior. The self-proclaimed adults would sigh and say, “When you have your own kids, you won’t have the energy….”
After Natan died, any wildness involving me and children stopped for awhile. First because I avoided most people with babies. Second because I quickly became pregnant again and any and all wildness involving my body stopped. My nieces and nephews were disappointed. Then Baby Man came along, and I’ve been busy with him. I don’t visit very often, and when I have, I often have to be attentive to his needs. I sometimes wondered if I had become one of the dull adults who children don’t notice.
Apparently not. At least not to Baby Man. This morning he woke up very early, yelling, “Mommy, mommy!” Got him up, came downstairs, and sat down to think about what to do now, in the dark, an hour that felt like hours before I wanted to be awake. Daylight is very important to me.
It’s not a normal thing anymore, to get up so early, but we were at a party last night until 6:30 and had to drive an hour home. He slept on the ride, which meant he went to bed, in essence, an hour early. Anyway, as I’m sitting on the floor with him, he suddenly jumps up, yells, “Ahhhh!” and then pushes me over, climbs on top of me and begins bouncing like a wild man. I responded by taking him off me and putting him back on the floor. But then he tackled me from behind, climbed up my shoulders and sat on my head.
I guess I really am some kind of human trampoline slash jungle gym.