Beau reversed himself onto me as I sat on the couch. His toes rested on my crossed feet, propping himself up gently. He lay snugly into my lap and stomach, his blond head peeking just under my chin.
I sat amazed that my son nearly outstretched me. I dared not move; a child can be like a frightened bird – once disturbed they rarely return. I enjoyed his weight as we sat there.
Chick sat under my right armpit, encased by my arm, my thumb rubbing his little toes. The three of us, quiet and inseparable.
It was time to get ready for the big man’s birthday party. An entire class of minis, along with a soccer team, were about to descend.
We dressed in our dance clothes, complete with skinny jeans, favourite t-shirts, glow stick wrist bands and disco beads.
We hired a DJ for the night, with Beau’s playlist in mind. The lights and music sent little ladies into one corner and many mini men into another. A song later and they were shuffling together.
I stood near the door tapping my foot and Timebomb came on. I was itching to get on the floor. Beau danced past and I heard him say to his mates, “I put this song on for my Dad”.
I couldn’t resist; I jumped onto the dance floor, scooped Beau up from his mates and we spun around in the lights, singing together.
All the boys then thought it was their turn, so I spun the boys upside down and flew them through the room. Chicky vied for my attention and I reached over heads and plucked him from the floor.
I watched Beau that night and noticed the role he plays with his friends. He’s the quiet carer of the group. His gentle demeanour runs deep like a river and on reflection, has the power to silence me with awe.
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