Your full moon eyes implore the world of me.
They would drag the self destruct button from deep beneath. That wonderful red circle
that almost cost me all I wanted.
Your fine motor finger scratching pulls me back from the edges.
Your little hand tightropes exploring the brink.
You stood to attention when we heard about your brother or sister. Not to be put out.
My face planting little soldier.
Nothing in this world scares me as much as letting you explore it does.
That razor tightrope sits miles above reason.
The tug on my heart string gets stronger the further you wander.
A delightful pain I know will grow with you.
A brief titter totter and the ring of your achievement in laughter makes my day.
Our glistening wedding bands a constant source of wonderment to you.
But when it goes south. When it gets bad.
When you can't understand that we don't know what to do and your throat is raw from fumbling at the vowels - we just hold you.
Keep you safe in our warm, amniotic bubble.
I promise you nothing my son. I wish you nothing.
I let each day take its meandering course; free from lines, regrets and oaths and enjoy the time I don't feel I deserve but will work to make you understand that you do.