He’s been walking for two weeks now. Walking in his wobbly drunken way.
When we fall down we get up again — it’s one of the lessons we remind ourselves of, when stuff happens that doesn’t feel so good — but when you watch a baby toddler do it over and over again, something deep in your bones wakes up and it’s as if there has never been a more obvious and intuitive lesson than this.
When Noah falls down he laughs and gets up again. He does it over and over again and he never gives up.
When he sees something he wants, whether it’s the cat’s food bowl or his favourite toy, he puts his whole being into acquiring it; he doesn’t waste any time wondering if he deserves it.
Everything is a toy to Noah. Everything is fun. Everything is a joy to taste, touch, hear, see.
He loves cucumber chunks. And soggy Rice Krispies. And sipping tea from his nana’s mug.
He likes to sit in the flower beds and crumble the soil in his hands; he passed me the smallest leaves he found.
I love seeing the world through his eyes.
He is my teacher.
