Dance
Shadowy, secretive. I see the shapes you make and patterns of light on the floor. I hear you breathing; heavier now you’ve been dancing for some time. I’m in the other room and tiptoe out to see if I can sneak a look. But I make a noise and am discovered. You turn around and plant your feet. You are dancing for yourself and no-one else is allowed to watch. A school disco is coming up, perhaps you are practicing for that. Although, I daresay, I’m the last person you’d tell.
A First Born’s Temper
Please be patient with your brother. Or at least try. Or pretend, for his sake.
Speed
Don’t race through your school work. Don’t race through the calendar. Don’t scrimp on the tooth brushing. Movies are still hard for you, I know, so I will forgive you for falling asleep during Star Trek. Sitcoms are faster, but poorer in quality (generally).
Hair
That rule we (no, I) made about plaiting your hair before bed so it’s not an unruly, tangled mess in the mornings? That was a good rule. I know because of your reluctant grunt of agreement.
Food
Before becoming a parent, I would’ve never properly understood the relief of having a child who was a ‘good eater’. Thank you, thank you for being ours.
Voice (actual)
I catch you singing under your breath. Your limited range is held in check this way, thereby keeping its pitch (which is more than I can say for mine). It’s a small treasure you keep quiet and is a surprise to anyone who might pass at the right moment, a stray note that lifts the room and then leaves it.
The Voice (television)
“I don’t understand why everyone makes such a fuss over Ricky Martin.”
Your Faithful Companion
The cat waits by the door every afternoon for you to arrive home from school, and probably will until the day she dies.
Love
Me – mine – for you, ever.
My little blur, and wonder.
