My nephew was born last friday and right now I am typing beside his crib while he is sucking on his milk bottle.
He is small. Well, he is normal size compared to kids his age but compared to me, he is small. I don't know if I can call him fragile. My friend descride me as fragile and I think this baby is more than fragile. At the same time, I also think this baby is tough. He have really small arms; small, delicate arms but you should see how he raise them up as if saying "World! Bring it on!"
Fun fact: he was born on a Friday the 13th. What is fun about it is he does not only have regular birthdays but also Friday the 13th celebrations. This kid would get so used to receiving presents.
He doesn't do much. He actually sleeps all day. And drink milk in between. But every move and every sound he makes is amazing. Watching him sleep isn't boring at all. I can't actually stop looking. Nobody can. It's really weird.
He also takes up a lot of space. To think he is just 18cm, he takes up a lot of space. I used to have my classmates stay here overnight, there would be about four to seven of them and I can accomodate them all without intruding too much on my grandparents. But this baby came along and it looks like, well it looks like he now owns the house. I'm not complaining, just pointing it out. It just amaze me, how someone that small could yield so much power.
More on lucky son when he can do more.
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I saw dollar boy today. I didn't say "hi". I can't. I didn't looked perfect nor did I felt daring. Last week, I looked perfect and daring.
He is becoming less real. This sucks. I can't lose him without doing anything. That is just so me. I hate that part of me. Worse, I am going to obssess about this for the next two weeks until I see him again and say "hi". He is becoming less real! You know, more like a shadow but in color. Like when you lessen the opacity of an image in photoshop. This is really bad. Even a shopping escapade did not cheer me up! I finished my poem for him though. How I wish I have the guts of the speaker in the poem. But I am the speaker in the poem! I just wish it would translate from poetry to real life. I am not sure of the title, I can't think of anything right now. But I think the poem is decent. Sigh
Rain Song
You are the clouds that reign over Manila in June.
And it looks like there is no escaping you.
Every commuter and street peddler
hurries to seek cover. But not me, I lay down
on the streets of this old city. And I dare you.
Drench me.
Let your waters flood every road, every vein,
every corner and every thought. Turn this city
into an ocean I would never escape from.
Because my dear, if I drown in the puddles
of your eyes, I really wouldn’t mind.
"... I lay down on the streets of this old city..." Yeah right! I couldn't even say "hi". The thing is, if I drown in his eyes; I really, really would not mind it at all.
He is small. Well, he is normal size compared to kids his age but compared to me, he is small. I don't know if I can call him fragile. My friend descride me as fragile and I think this baby is more than fragile. At the same time, I also think this baby is tough. He have really small arms; small, delicate arms but you should see how he raise them up as if saying "World! Bring it on!"
Fun fact: he was born on a Friday the 13th. What is fun about it is he does not only have regular birthdays but also Friday the 13th celebrations. This kid would get so used to receiving presents.
He doesn't do much. He actually sleeps all day. And drink milk in between. But every move and every sound he makes is amazing. Watching him sleep isn't boring at all. I can't actually stop looking. Nobody can. It's really weird.
He also takes up a lot of space. To think he is just 18cm, he takes up a lot of space. I used to have my classmates stay here overnight, there would be about four to seven of them and I can accomodate them all without intruding too much on my grandparents. But this baby came along and it looks like, well it looks like he now owns the house. I'm not complaining, just pointing it out. It just amaze me, how someone that small could yield so much power.
More on lucky son when he can do more.
****************
I saw dollar boy today. I didn't say "hi". I can't. I didn't looked perfect nor did I felt daring. Last week, I looked perfect and daring.
He is becoming less real. This sucks. I can't lose him without doing anything. That is just so me. I hate that part of me. Worse, I am going to obssess about this for the next two weeks until I see him again and say "hi". He is becoming less real! You know, more like a shadow but in color. Like when you lessen the opacity of an image in photoshop. This is really bad. Even a shopping escapade did not cheer me up! I finished my poem for him though. How I wish I have the guts of the speaker in the poem. But I am the speaker in the poem! I just wish it would translate from poetry to real life. I am not sure of the title, I can't think of anything right now. But I think the poem is decent. Sigh
Rain Song
You are the clouds that reign over Manila in June.
And it looks like there is no escaping you.
Every commuter and street peddler
hurries to seek cover. But not me, I lay down
on the streets of this old city. And I dare you.
Drench me.
Let your waters flood every road, every vein,
every corner and every thought. Turn this city
into an ocean I would never escape from.
Because my dear, if I drown in the puddles
of your eyes, I really wouldn’t mind.
"... I lay down on the streets of this old city..." Yeah right! I couldn't even say "hi". The thing is, if I drown in his eyes; I really, really would not mind it at all.
