Dragonfly Dance

Tucking the kids in bed tonight. L was lying next to M and laughing and squeaking at him. M was saying: “L, please control your hands and your legs; no L, M’s aren’t for eating!” I told them how much I loved them and how L would play with M when he got older. M said: “sorry for being grumpy yesterday.” I told him I was sorry too and I was the grumpiest anyway.

I lay cuddling them both and thinking how lucky I am to have them. My heart goes out to the poor people on the plane that crashed in France and knowing that there were two babies on board makes me want to smother my babies in kisses and cuddles. Life is so brilliant and unpredictable and fleeting.

For some reason I am reminded of a time when we still lived in the States and M was less than a year old. He had a little colour-changing plastic dragonfly (like this one) that my Granny had bought him. One day I turned the lights off and we lay on the bed. I made the dragonfly fly around, swooping my arm up and down and back and forth as it changed from blue to purple to yellow to green to red. Little M squealed in delight as he followed the light with his eyes and swiped at it with his hands. We did that for what seemed like ages. I think my thunderstorm CD was playing too. It was only him and me in the whole world watching the multicoloured flight of a plastic dragonfly.

That’s my favourite memory of when he was a baby. I had postnatal depression after I had him and so a lot of it was just getting through the day, but that moment was pure joy. I also remember the first time he gave me a cuddle. We we sitting on the bed, I may have been trying to get him to nap, and he kept taking his pacifier out of his mouth and throwing it on the bed and laughing. Then he crawled over to me and lay his head on my chest and gave me the first of many cuddles.

I can’t believe how big he is now. And now I have L too, who is growing and learning and is miraculous in his own way. M’s dragonfly got broken during one of our transatlantic flights when he dropped it and someone trod on it. I have always missed it since then. I think I will buy another one for L to add to his sensory collection.

In other news, my husband is making what smells like a gorgeous curry. They always say “don’t sweat the small stuff,” which is true (though I am not quite over yesterday’s laundry, washing up, and lack-of-sleep-induced pity fest). But it’s the other sort of small stuff that makes life worth living. Dancing dragonflies and yummy curries. And four lovely boys (one gorgeous husband, two sweet babies, and a slightly psychotic dog) to share it with.


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Burnt Supper

British/American, postgraduate, wife, mother, dog-owner

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