My father and I were driving Rex home from daycare the other day and he told me something that I found very interesting: “You were so much fun when you were little.”
Fun? I had a really hard time wrapping my brain around this – although not because I doubted that I was fun. By all accounts, I was a laugh riot when I was a kid. What I had a hard time getting was that babies can be fun. My overwhelming experience thus far with Rex could not be classified as ‘fun’. Anything but fun.
A few days later, my parents baby sat Rex for a few hours while Mr. X and I went to a classic car auction.
When we returned, my father reported that Rex was great fun to be around. And, I began to see him through my dad’s eyes. His excited little leg jig when he wanted something. His giggle when tickled in just the right spot. His overall zest and joy for life. Rex is fun alright. He is truly a joy to behold.
Yesterday, Rex shared with me some of his capacity for fun. He was on our bed, on his back (in his cockroach pose, I call it – arms and legs in the air swinging madly because he wants to get over on his hands and knees) and I was shaking his little bottom by swinging his legs back and forth. He LOVED every minute of it – from the shake to the slalom. And, I admit it: I had fun with him. His little old man heh-heh-heh laugh made me laugh every time which sent him into further paroxysms of joy.
Then, I had this overwhelming urge and held him close to my chest while kissing him on his big fat cheek and I thought, babies can be fun. Who knew?