He’s always reaching up and out.
When my three-month-old nurses, he rests his hand on my chest as if to say, “Close isn’t close enough, if I can be closer.”
If he’s tired when I hold him, he rests his head on my shoulder and grasps my elbow with the hand that ends up dangling near my hip should he fall asleep. (Always considered a huge success in Momma Land!)
It seems to me that the games he most enjoys are the ones that involve me kissing his cheeks, holding his hands, wiggling his feet, or tickling his tummy. Toys are beginning to grow interesting, but remain far less captivating than his Mommy.
If I’m fully present while we play, he’ll remain entertained until he starts to get hungry or tired. However, it never satisfies him for more than a minute or two if I’m looking away.
Just being in the same room isn’t enough.
If I’m doing anything but giving him my undivided attention, he’ll start to make little grunts of frustration that turn into happy squeals the moment I approach him.
I find it fascinating that Ellis makes his happiest sounds when his Papa or I are interacting with him. He’s learning to laugh, but only does so in response to us engaging with him.
He smiles at me every time he sneezes, as if he wanted me to know how silly he thinks the sound is, or possibly because he’s proud of himself for having caught my attention.
My son is my daily reminder that from the very beginning, we were made for relationship. It’s where we flourish, it’s where we thrive.
With all of his being, he’s constantly crying out, “Let me see your eyes.”