Today's Age is Perfect

Sometimes baby seems so aware that, though she’s not yet four months old, we get the feeling we shouldn’t be having any kind of conversation we choose in her company. Not that she’s said, “Excuse me, dears, but do you think it’s completely ideal to speak that way around a child?” But her eyes say she’s performing mental calculus to the best of her ability and that if we knew what that ability was we would assume part of what we said was being digested. Science can say what it wants about this, but I trust what I see in my daughter’s eyes.

It’s hard not to add and subtract years and months to and from her age all the time. Not only do we perpetually see her recent status as a newborn as the most perfect incarnation of her truest self, but we conversely project a future of consciousness (and even achievement) onto her that diminishes the perfection of her incarnation in this moment. She is as perfect right here and right now as she ever can be.

The Brakes Are Out

I can’t speak for anyone else, but this limitless love thing toward one’s children is a wee bit terrifying. Watching my attachment to Her Special Cuteness grow on a daily basis is fun, replenishing, shocking. And way, way, way scary. I didn’t know how much I wanted not to feel this attached to anyone, until I couldn’t stop it from happening. Nor did I know I had healed enough not to be able to stop it from happening. Luckily, my wife is no less helpless with regard to her overwhelming feelings of love; if she weren’t by my side suffering from the same symptoms I’d be even more frightened than I am.

I thank God for all of it.