The Pillow

I’m sure every parent has an “aww” story. Mine just happened. My slightly parasitic toddler who is usually self-obsessed (developmentally appropriate), just brought me a pillow.

I have been sick all weekend and DaDa has been the primary figure in her little world while I retreated to the bedroom for a drug induced sleep/coma. I’m a lucky woman. I know.

Periodically, I made an appearance to get tea, food, or say a brief hello. I missed my baby. But I also felt like I was pulled down the freeway by a semi-truck. Parenting: it’s a balancing act. Rest. Pee. Pretend I’m over the moon happy so she suspects nothing. Retreat into bed and become a sweaty germ puddle. Awesome.

But, just now, during one brief interlude I felt good. While I played, DaDa sprinted into the kitchen, leaping baby gates in a single bound to fill his stomach with whatever calories were within arms reach. She’s cute. That’s how she gets ya’. Trust me. You take advantage of any downtime. DaDa is learning. I’m so proud.

And then it hits me. The virus. Like a brick wall. And I’m down. Which is fine, actually because the laminate floor is quite cool to my clammy skin. DaDa looks concerned but keeps eating. I grope and find a partially inflated bowling pin. I pull it under my head. The toddler points and says, “eh”. Like, what is wrong with you crazy lady?

“I needed a pillow,” I explain.

She chatters and toddles away like a drunken baby. Feet pounding the laminate in uneven, slightly off-balanced steps. It’s a wonder she stays upright at all.

I close my eyes and enjoy the tiny moment I have before she inevitably brings me a book to read or drops a heavy toy or the book on my face.

“Mama,” she says sweetly. I’m concerned.

I peek an eye open. There, in front of me is my tiny human holding a pillow, nearly as tall as she is. For me. She gently hands me the pillow and helps me put it under my head. “Mama.” She pats the pillow. Mama’s pillow.

An entire future of her amazing awesomeness flashes before my eyes; her first day of kindergarten, playing with friends, graduation, the whole bit…all flashed before my eyes. She brought me a pillow. Do you understand? She transcended parasitic toddlerhood and became a real tiny human being.

I’m looking at DaDa who also is slack jaw. Yes he saw it too! “Add it to the list,” I say. Yes, we keep a list of firsts…because we are those parents. I know, I gag too.

My excited and very pleased toddler drunkenly stumbles around the room. I’m still reveling in the momentous moment. She brought me a pillow. My baby. A Pillow.

A book hits me in the head. I’m disoriented. I’ve taken too long. She is stomping in displeasure and threatening a tantrum. She’s not very good at those yet…so they are still cute. And we are back.

But…a pillow.

)

Tiny Human Experiment

Written by

Raising a feisty Tiny Human who was born 11 weeks early and weighed 1kg (2lbs 3oz).

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