What A Miracle!

My son is sitting in the middle of the carpet, legs straight out in front. He bends his right leg a bit, pushing up his pant leg to see his what’s underneath.

He examines what he has discovered there closely as if to say, hmmm…a leg!

Now he pats his leg, this thing he has discovered.

Pat, pat pat. He pats his shin. He pats his knee.

Now, his thigh. Pat, pat, pat. Again and again.

He smiles with delight.

He grasps his knee, holding on so tight it becomes red. His face grows serious as he does this.

He continues holding on tight as he moves his leg.

Knee up. Knee down. Bend, bend, bend.

He smiles again as if confirming—yes, his discovery is indeed a miraculous one.

Now he squeezes, squeezing the baby fat—cellulite to you and me—with delight. He smiles again as he feels the fat between his fingers. Isn’t fat wonderful? Isn’t it miraculous?

He seems delighted, as if fully understanding how lucky he is to have such wonderful fat.

He stops. All motion. Stops.

He is mesmerized with something.

What is it? What now?

He holds his hands out in front of him, as still as can be.

Now his fingers bend. Bending, bending.

Ah, yes, his hands. The hands doing all the patting, exploring, squeezing and feeling—yes, they are miraculous too.

He stares and studies his hands, moving them round and round. He rotates a wrist.

Now he smiles. Not just any smile—a big toothy grin. Wow. What a hand!

He clasps them together, still staring.

Then it starts. Together once. Then apart.

Together again. Apart again. Again and again.

He is clapping now. Clap, clap, clap!

Faster and faster. Harder and harder.

“Yah! Yah! Yah!”

His face beams as he claps. Let’s give this miraculous body a big round of applause!