There’s something I secretly love.
Swooping in on a gong show, some poor soul holding Evan like a pissed-off skunk in a live trap while he yells himself inside out. He sees me, eyes wide, and wails until I get close enough to rescue him. Then he melts, and all is well.
All babies bonk. They hit the wall - over-stimulated, sick of performing, numb from the carseat, in need of a quiet spot and some naked time. And regardless of the expertise of the aforementioned poor soul on watch, the only remedy is mommy and daddy.
It’s the most potent ego boost in the whole universe.
Oh, oh! Mommy! There you are! I didn’t see you. Don’t do that again, I like to see you. I am so hungry, and all these people are here staring at me and I don’t know them, and I have my cranky pants on because I’m all hot and sweaty and I just woke up and wow, you smell nice.
Can we have cuddles? Can you rub your face in my face so I can grab onto your ears so I know you can’t go anywhere? I like that because then I know you’re mine, mine all mine. I’ll bite your cheek and growl in your ear and you can growl back and I’ll like that. That’s how I know everything’s going to be okay, when I have a fistful of you.
Then a grin creeps out with a sigh, the red face eases and a wave of comfort comes over him like a shipwreck survivor landing on a familiar beach. This little person has a shocking amount of faith in me to put everything right, and without fail, it makes me feel fifty feet tall.