Sun of mine

For some time now I have been thinking about whether or not I should post about my son. I thought what would I say about him; how would it be interpreted? The interpretation of what I may say being my overriding "concern"; but then in my usual fashion I toss the interpretation of others aside and figure I would say what ever I want. I really love being me sometimes.



I thought to myself a couple nights ago while I stood in the kitchen washing the dishes and my son being a nuisance not to far from me; it must have been a woman to come up with that phrase "a bundle of joy". I think that phrase was deliberately designed to mislead men, much like happily ever after, we can be such simpletons at times that we are giddied by the mere notion of happiness in abundance. The farce.



So yes, my son. A beautiful child; I may be bias but I think he is beautiful. I look at him every day and some of his temperament reminds me of myself. The part of me that I'm sure drive the people who really know me up the wall. He can be such a sweetheart, you just want to be around him all the time, just watch him discover the world; but then just like the weather he can change and be such a little asshole (yes I said it, strong word huh). Not that I think he is totally aware that he is being an asshole, but those are the times I want to shake him silly, or cover his mouth to muffle his cries. My god he can cry. Car alarm sounds should be replaced with the sound of a crying infant, OMG. It's deafening, it grates on your nerves, to the point sometimes you just want to run as far away as possible.



But you know what gets me, when he is done his wailing and moaning, he turns and gives me that smile and I just melt. Damn it! He's good. Some months ago his mother travelled and it was just my bundle of joy and me. Wow! I actually look forward to those times, it gives me that time to learn him a bit more and bond with him. But during that time, there was one Saturday morning he was just not in the best of moods, very clingy, crying, just altogether rotten. So I figured I would give him a bath, because he likes the water, and that would settle him down then I could feed him and put him to sleep so I can get along with cooking.



He seemed to have other plans. He hit the water crying and just would not seem to stop, at that point I knelt along side the tub, with my head bowed, on the verge of tears and I said, God just make him stop, give me a break. Then seemingly through divine intervention, he stopped crying, stretched out his little hands and touched me on the head. My good god, what a feeling. It was like daddy it will be ok. Everything at that moment seemed fine. We laughed and played in the water for a while, I took him out, dried him off, dress him and the rest of the day was a breeze.



You know what really fascinates me about him, his curiosity and the excitement of the new, the unknown. I actually envy that. Everything is new and exciting to him; when was the last time you got excited at the feel of wind, or tried to catch wind in your hands, can you even remember being fascinated by the sound of a barking dog.



I'm enjoying some of the simple things we forget in this life through my son, I share his pain too, like when through his curiosity he squeezes his fingers in the cupboard door which I placed those child safety thingys on.



He is not a bundle of joy, not at all. More like little pockets of joy. Like life he has his good days and his not so good days; but the good days out way the not so good. I can barely wait to see the man he will turn out to be. If you ever get to read this J, know that daddy loves you.