It’s….Velcro Baby!

Oh, dear sweet one.

I know you’re hot. I can feel it radiating off you before I even gather you, sweaty, from your nap. I would take that fever from you and wear it for a week if I could make you feel better for an hour.

I know you’re miserable. I can tell my the way you ball up inside if your feet touch the ground for even a moment. I will keep you with me as long as you need me to, even if I have to ice my biceps later.

I know you hate medicine. I can tell the way you gag when you see the dispenser syringe thingie. I would do anything to make love and milk and good intentions fix this illness, baby, but sometimes we need to bow to the bludgeoning power of Western meds. Because I won’t let big bad germs get you.

I know you want mama. I can tell the way you haven’t left my hip for four days. If I could just zipper you on while you need that, I would. Until then we’ll use slings and arms and wraps. No, of course not backpacks. I know better than that, butterbean.

I know you’ll be too big soon to be a Velcro Baby when you’re sick. Soon I’ll be replaced by movies, then books, then someone else. When you’re sick. When you’re not sick, too.

I hope you won’t ever get sick again. I hope you won’t ever get too sick. I hope you won’t ever completely lose the need for Mama when you’re feeling crummy.

I hope I won’t ever forget the heft and heat and helplessness of Velcro Baby.

7 thoughts on “It’s….Velcro Baby!

  1. I am sorry that he’s sick. Get better soon!

    I used to have a koala baby that lived on my hip when he was too big to be carried in my arms… {{{hugs}}} At least I was very happy and proud that I had what the grandmothers call “Boy-carrying hips”… Literally.

  2. Once I got to the “slings and arms” part, my brain went to “The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles”….. I was having a Fie attack. Feel better Butter dude, to sleep, perchance to dream.

    Dudette, you tell Lemon Curd his ass is lemongrass. Your chee is in the mail.

  3. Poor, poor babe…Poor, poor mama and her aching arms, back and heart. Hope the germs get what they deserve and that you both get some rest…((you))

  4. JC – Fie attack? Mwhahaha. Shakespeare’s everywhere. And so am I!

    Nap – I’m really sorry to hear that Butter is under the weather. Sending healing thoughts his way!

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