My M.B. has become a little boy. He strings words together into sentences, sings songs, makes jokes (toddler humor? Who knew?), dances, and even holds me with his hands cupping my face, or else his arms wrapped around my legs. Even with his new mornings of child-care at the university, we are together most of the time. He is my companion, my charge, my yoga, he is my work and my job, my joy. He is so much a part of me, and my daily life, that all of a sudden writing about him seems unmanageable. How does one write about his fingers, eyes, or legs? How can I explain how much this child means to me?
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