I carried around my little baby friend the other day, she’s three months old, and we had a lovely time. She just fits neatly into the crook of my arm and she doesn’t weigh enough to make it matter, but she is quite present in her world as we swing around together. We sat on the stonewall by the pool and greeted everyone playing in the water. We looked at all the folks saying hello and touching her perfect skin. She doesn’t even get dirty yet since she cannot walk on the earth. Her little feet are still clean. But she smiles and looks and allows us to show her.
I don’t get this part of life though. It is magical and sweet as far as I can see. But for some reason it is the part of life few of us remember. I don’t know anyone who recalls being carried around, wondering at the world they were born into.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we all had the memory of what look to be rather sweet days of being adored and carried and cared for?
Ooh, that sure would be nice. I think until we figure that out we’ll have to happily settle for doing what we can to experience wonder, and from time to time finding ways to be carried and cared for. I’d love to hear your and others’ thoughts about adapting such desires to adult life. Thank you as always, Jane!
Thanks for your comment on this. The first few years when babies cannot tell us anything is fascinating to me. Just what is going on in the little head? And would it not be interesting to be able to remember once we are grown?