I spent much of last week marveling at my two nieces.
Elisa is learning to crawl. She’s going to get there any day, and the Deacon and Deaconess have realized how quickly they will need to baby proof their house. During a short week’s visit I got to watch as she learned to clap – she had been working at it for awhile but finally got both hands to arrive in the same place at the same time – and to eat Cheerios with her hands. This is the first food she’s been able to mostly feed to herself.
The last time I saw Nora, she was fairly content to rest in the arms of whoever was holding her at the moment. Now she works to pick her head up, to squirm into a position she prefers. The muscles in her face are developing into wonderful expressions – the Deacon noted how she purses her lips often, as though she has appraised your baby handling skills and moderately disapproves.
Both girls work feverishly towards their next task, their next movement, their next little bit of independence. How quickly we give up as adults. How quickly we refocus on what comes quickly and easily, rather than what learning might bring us more independence, happiness or wisdom. How long has it been since I wanted anything as keenly as these two wonderful creatures want to develop and use their own strength, their own personalities?