The Cerebral Mum

Yesterday, in spite of my self-loathing, was a good day. Cas and I have been going to the park each afternoon since the sun appeared unseasonably. As with most things, Cas was slow to smile at first. He likes to take his time working things out.

He’s not scared or shy of anything, but he’s a thinker. And he hasn’t seen much of the world yet so he’s got higher priorities than giggling for every lady that coos at him on the street. But yesterday he had the park all worked out. So I got smiles.

(Well, I get smiles all the time, and hysterical giggles, and quirky little performances just cos he thinks he’s funny, but I’m his Mum. )

Yesterday the park got smiles: The swing got smiles, the see-saw and the slide got smiles, the wobbly bridge got lots of smiles. And as far as climbing goes, is he supposed to be able to do that at his age? But the most wonderful thing was that I didn’t carry him between playthings. He led me by the hand wherever he wanted to go. Or, more precisely, by the index finger.

He took his first few solo steps while Mum was here in July (8½ mths) but pretty soon after that it was straight into hospital for surgery and he’d been hesitant about it ever since so I dropped the “encouragement” and let him take his own time. Why rush? It’s not like he was behind schedule. It’s not like there’s any schedule for these things anyway.

So if he’s wanted to walk, I’ve just been letting him explore the house holding my two hands and stopping where he pleases to inspect the lint on the floor or the contents of the cupboards. But nothing was so interesting at the park as the bark beneath his feet. He kept leaning to pick up a piece but there were too many pieces to choose from.

It was that iconic image, that lump in your throat type stuff that I am failing miserably to describe. I’ll just have to let the pictures I took today speak for themselves speak for themselves. I’m so glad I didn’t lose my camera.