Poem For Owen At Almost Five Months

Owen bats my face when I feed him his bottle
I think he is trying to get me to turn my head so he can grab
A grandmother braid to hold on to
As he drinks
But I am not sure because he is
Learning to manipulate his environment in every way
Not quite five months old and he grabs everything
No longer does he have zombie arms
He has arms with purpose
And its not just the physical manipulation
Oh no
He has learned to whimper and whine in a way which
Ensures his grandmother will pick him up
If he is in his little walker he can make it speed across
The floor to me and if I ignore him he begins that cross fuss
That fake little cry
Because he's not upset enough to really cry
He just wants me to pick him up
And of course I do, settle him on my hip
And say
What is it boy? What do you want to do?
And he leans over, straining for the floor
And I think he wants me to put him down
So he can walk and run
But of course he's not ready for that yet
And so I am his legs or sometimes I give him wheels
And we bundle up and go outside in the stroller
Where he can observe all the things in
Grandmother's yard
Although he doesn't care a thing for the garden yet
The chickens are endlessly fascinating.

Yesterday he sat on my lap and we shared a banana
I smushed up tiny pieces and fed them to him
He sucked my fingers with satisfaction
Banana
He seemed to say
I know that flavor and I like it
He must think it grows from my fingers
Like his mother's milk grows from her breast
Why not?
Life is full of mysteries
And he is determined to figure them out
From my hip if need be
And when he bats my face
I turn my head
So he can have what he wants
And sometimes I am amazed that he is still a baby
With all this thinking going on
All these lessons already learned
He is trying to leap from our arms
He wants to leap back into them
Make up your mind!
I tell him, laughing
And he looks at me as if to say
I am trying.
Can't you see? I am trying.