Changing the clocks

It’s not even the question of what day it is, but if it’s day or night? Changing the clocks doesn’t help. But it did generously give an extra hour. Baby didn’t know that though.

A tiny soft hand on top of mine, exploring. Need to cut his nails. Need to do it when he’s sleeping. Don’t want to wake him. His little hand lets go of mine and slowly falls to the pillow. Resting over his head. He’s falling asleep. He’s been sleeping so much. He must be exhausted from all the new stuff he’s been busy learning and training, perfecting all his waking hour. Rolling to his tummy, looking around. Registering items, colours and movements. Rolling back. Roll back to tummy again straight away. It must be more fun on this side, it’s not, he cries. Dad helps him back to his back, which he knows how to do very well, but he’s too exhausted now. As soon as he’s on his back his hands moves up to his eyes. A centimeter from his face. Intently studying, touching. Won’t take a break and just be, have to learn and practice. Every waking hour. Falls back asleep.

Aiden playing

Sleeps for hours. Two is long but normal for day sleep, three, four hours though? He must be so tired. Starting to wake up. Rocking the cradle with movements. Stretching. Making noises. Then still and quiet. Taking forever to wake up. Dad sits by the cot. Waiting. Waiting for that smile and those curious, ever-studying eyes. Waiting for it to start all over again.

Clocks forward, clocks backwards. Here all the clocks are on baby time.

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