I am immersed in waves of real life. Awe and wonder are ingredients of my everyday life and more often than not, I simply find myself smiling ear-to-ear while I watch his little wheels turn.
Currently Braden is on the launch pad to independent mobility. He is exploring the desire for things just out of his reach surpassing his ability to reach them. He can scoot on his belly, which usually just ends up in a tummy pivoted 360. He can bring himself to his knees from sitting by simply extending his reach, which usually just ends up on him lightly face planting. And he can reach further than humanly possible in the manner that one might take one last reach for the lifeline that will pull them back into the boat.
The fascinating thing is to watch the facial expressions depict his internal monologue I am convinced that while he cannot form words or sentences externally , his internal monologue is well spoken and seemingly narrated in a James Lipton fashion. "If I just do this than perhaps I can do this...DAMMIT!" or "OK. Let me move this foot here and try to stretch...DAMMIT, why is the other foot wedged so helplessly behind my knee?".
The other notable nuance of this whole scenario is the juxtaposition of my son learning to get mobile and my mother having recently lost the ability to be so, sharing the same property. Everyday I smile that "he's up to something" smile while watching him explore his inevitability while everyday I sigh that "I wish it weren't this way" sigh of watching my mom comes to grips with her inevitably.
Some days, most days, the simple desire to write about this battle keeps me from watching them fight to the death, and a part of my daily internal soundtrack is the Lion Kings-Circle of Life, but one without the other would be far too much emotion for one "new parent" to handle.