I'm learning. I think.
It is now possible to sit with my son and have a conversation with him. When it happens, it's kind of astounding. From birth, all you've heard from your child are gurgles, cries, yelps, a singular mangled word here and there, mama, papa and the like. These days though, he's been talking, really talking. In sentences. He's using words that I have no idea where he learned from and displaying an understanding of self and a greater awareness of the people living around him.
So we're having lunch and he's making me laugh. And I don't really mind anymore if he's making a mess at the table. We were having too much fun. After a while, we just sat there, looking at each other. With weird grins on our faces. Looking at his brown eyes made me feel like I was staring into my own.
There is so much in him that is like me. Sometimes that makes me happy, sometimes that makes me afraid.
The more we talk, the more I learn exactly who this child is beneath the brown eyes, the dirty fingernails and toothy smile. He knows how to make me laugh. It's a good start.