These days we only ever have 90 minutes of awake time between naps. And today, when Gus woke up in the afternoon, I had big plans to get going. Places to be, things to do.
But when opened his eyes, he just laid still and looked at me. I didn’t have the heart to bundle him up and hurry him out. So we hung out awhile and something really cool happened.
It started pretty normal where he made a little noise and I copied it. Then he made a little cry and I copied that too. He looked at me and smiled and made another cry and waited for me to do mine. And what was cool about this for me is that his noises were little chunks of his actual crying. So if he hadn’t been stopping and smiling and waiting, I’d have sworn he was upset (almost triggering my built-in panic to respond). It’s never been clearer that his crying is his way of talking. It was lovely and we spend a long time there in this little bubble of magic. Until he threw up on my chest.
But this little interaction made us both feel so connected. So that I continued to REALLY pay attention to him and kept things slow and kept talking to him as we got ready and got in the stroller and walked up the street. And he kept relaxed ad happy all the way through the post office (which he usually HATES) and even in business and bad lighting of Woolworths at, get this, 4pm.
We were both so happy and calm that it was a joy of an afternoon. And while sometimes I feel like I spend my days alone, today I wasn’t. All because of a bit of slowing down and connecting.
Of course it also could be that he just had a really good nap.