It’s better that…
7 months ago, I gave birth to the most chill baby I’ve ever encountered. She rarely cries and when she does, it’s only in short bursts.
Recently, she’s reached the milestone where there’s so much of the world around her to see and play and we, the bigger humans, do not quite move fast enough.
To her, we must be like slow lumbering giants. While to her there is wonderment to be discovered all around, we the big people folk, stand about or sit and stare at screens.
As my baby grows, so does her attention seeking skills. Every cry, screech, da-das and ma-mas begs for us to tear away from the flat rectangular things in our hands, on our walls and on our desks.
I don’t think she’s quite figured out this magical portal to another world just yet.
And perhaps it’s better that way.
It’s better that my baby can find joy in just staring out into the blue sky, wondering how it all works. Or look down at the tiny details of the carpet, lost in her own world and oblivious to everything else around her.
It’s better that once she learns to walk, to talk and everything else in between, she stays rooted and limited to the physical world that is untainted by the constant stream of data, of drama, of images and words that amount to nothing much.
It’s better that she learns to connect to others by being disconnected.
It’s better that she learns to make, bake and create.
It’s better that she grows up the way we did when we were younger — in an age where children remained children for much longer.
So for now, I am sacrificing my time in the other world to be in hers — the world that we are programmed for by nature. For now, I am limiting my time in the other world because my baby is only small once and for such a short period of time.
Because it’s better to live my life with my baby than with others that I don’t know or see.
Because childhood is short and fleeting and this small window of wonderment will only last for so long.
Because when she’s all grown up, I can safely say that I was properly there with her and for her.
Because you only get to be a child once, or a few times over if you’re lucky.