Babies aren’t afraid

My son is fearless.  Stupidly so.

He runs right into the ocean and jumps in head first.  Even when it’s bitterly cold.

He does not adhere to the proverbial “look before you leap.”

He dances like a fool to songs like “Lean on Me”, “Rockin’ Robin”, and “Dancing on the Ceiling”.

He sings loudly to songs he loves, even when he doesn’t know the words.  (He barely knows any words.)

He reaches out his hand to shake hands with strangers.  He freely gives kisses, whether you want them or not (you usually do).  He hugs kids, doctors, adults, family that he shares a moment with.  He connects.

He wears whatever is comfortable or clean or is just there lying out on the chair and literally struts with all the confidence in the world.

If he wants to watch a show, he says “show.” If he wants something, he asks.  If he wants to go somewhere he points.  If not, he says “no.”  No subtext, no second guessing.

My son is honest.  He sees a Buddha statue and says, “mama.” (okay maybe too honest.)

He’s bored, he walks away and does something else.

He’s full, he stops eating. (it’s as simple as that.)

He is open.  He’ll look you in the eye, touch your arms, sit on your lap, smile widely.

He never knows where he’s going, ever.  But, he’s super excited for the journey.

I can only wish to be so stupidly fearless.  And honest.  And care-less.  And so in the moment.

How does he have this all figured out, and he’s not even two?

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