waiting

We’re at the point now where the baby could arrive any minute. It’s raining, as usual, and so instead of being out walking, my usual time staller, we’re all just sitting around the house reading tea leaves and making bets. It seems appropriate that we live across the street from a bus stop. I see people standing out with their umbrellas, craning their necks around the corner, checking their watches. I can relate.

Off and on, G stands over at the corner, talking to his plastic animals and singing – we’ve told him what’s going on, and about half the time it seems to dawn on the edge of his growing consciousness, and the rest of the time it’s business as usual. His regular number is the Twinkle, Twinkle/ Baa Baa Black Sheep/ Alphabet medley. But yesterday morning, he was singing a tune I couldn’t place at first, until I remembered that our bedtime repertoire includes a little bit of the Beatles. He had changed the words to suit his own vocabulary and, maybe, circumstances: “And then while I’m away, I’ll be good every day, and I’ll send all my loving to you.” And then he smiled and gave me a hug.

It reminds me these things are worth waiting for.