I’ve got a clinger.
He’s 9 months old, and he loves me, his Mama, more. than. anything.
He’s always been attached, as babies are, and affectionate, as they learn to be, but more recently has moved into a new level of awareness concerning who’s around and who is not. He goes to others with no problem, for the most part. But if I re-enter the scene, it dawns on him….my Mama is not holding me. In fact, maybe she hasn’t even been here, this whole time! Oh nooooooo!!!!
Anxiety. Tears. Fat little arms reaching my way.
And as I sigh a little and wonder if I should just cut an extra neckhole into my t-shirts for him, part of me knows what will happen in just a few months. And so I squeeze him and kiss him and close my eyes to try to capture what this holding-of-him feels like.
He will get bigger. He won’t have the patience to be held for quite as long. He won’t fit neatly against my upper body anymore. He will follow his Daddy around with the same curiousity, intensity, and enthusiasm that his big brother does. Mama’s place in the center of his universe will shift just a little. And over the next few months, a little more.
I’ll tell myself, like I did with his big brother (and I’ll be right, you know) that these shifts are positive and healthy and good.
And for today, I am patient with my sticky baby.
