Sunday, 5 December 2010
Mostly, his days are spent in enthusiastic exploration but sometimes a stillness comes over him and he stops quite suddenly in silence.
On those rare occasions, I see concentration cover his face and absorption flood his mind. His chubby little fingers grasp at the treasure at hand and his over-stretched brain tries to grapple once again with the newness of the world.
He sits silently examining the texture and taste of his toy, investigating its weight and sound, and frowning intently as he comes to terms with the new limits and possibilities of play and the ever-changing parameters of his world.
For a moment he is utterly engrossed. Past bruises are forgotten, future falls are unthought of, other toys are unimportant and other games are unimagined. He is completely consumed by concentration and as a result he is completely content.
Sometimes as I watch him I become awed by his contentment and I wonder when I was last so perfectly absorbed in anything that past and future diminished into insignificance and complete contentment prevailed.
I wish that I could loose myself in the perfection of the present and recapture some of that calm concentration of childhood.
Then I realise that I've lost the last five minutes just watching my baby play and that the little boy on my floor has helped me to do just that.