Look at you, holding your head up now, meerkat like, alert and checking out the world around you. There’s such a lot to see, isn’t there?
What fabulous little legs you have. Those rolls of fat around your thighs are adorable. I love the contented roundness of you, of your barrel chest; the fact that even your bellybutton is rotund.
Your skin feels soft, smooth; completely unsullied and unscarred. A blank canvas of purity. There is nothing softer in the whole wide world. Mother nature is so clever. Man, with all his technology, cannot produce anything that comes close to the silken feel of your flawless skin.
Your eyes, like mill pools, are the deepest, darkest blue. I can see myself reflected in them. They light up when you smile. Your mouth contorts first; this way and that. You wriggle slightly, as if moving your body at the same time will help you coax it out. It’s strange, getting the hang of this smiling lark, isn’t it? And then it comes, the circumzenithal arc across your face. Your smile, a real smile. Like an upside down rainbow, casting light all around. It causes the shape of your eyes to change. No longer wide, open gazing eyes, now almond like. Crinkled at the corners. Smiling eyes.
Hey, I’m smiling now. Your smile makes me smile. In fact, I can’t stop smiling when you smile. I’ve smiled so much my cheeks are actually aching. Is that funny? Something seems to be amusing to you. Oh, you are adorable. Have I told you that today?
Can you talk to me? Go on, I know you want to. You’re trying so hard. If you keep trying, soon you’ll make a sound, I promise. Oh wow! You did it! I love that cooing sound. You remind me of a little bird when you open your mouth and try to talk, searching deep within for sweet, melodic notes. What else can you tell me? Tell me something else. I love the sound of your little voice. I promise I’ll treasure every sound, every word, even though I can’t quite decipher them all yet.
That’s a funny face; all screwed up. What’s wrong? You seemed so happy a minute ago. Oh don’t cry, please don’t cry. We were having such a lovely chat. Mummy doesn’t know what’s wrong.
What’s that noise? A 21 gun canon salute?
Hold on; my lap feels warm. And wet.
Ah. Poo bombed. Again. I’m honoured. Really, I am.
You’re smiling now. Yes, I’m sure it is very funny. Did you know that these are my best trousers?
I’ll let you off, for the second time (today).
It’s a good job I love you so much.