I was standing in the lobby of a hotel in Mozambique, holding my six-month-old nephew on my hip. I don't have any children but I have nine nieces and nephews, and this was number seven. I love holding babies. I love their fat solid weight, their hot little hands, I love their sweet sour smell, I love how easy it is to love a baby, you can just keep pouring love in and they are never full even though they are such a very small vessel. All babies are different to hold. One of my nephews had to be entertained all the time, even when you were holding him, or he would scream. I'd hold him in one arm and use the other hand to make marionette movements in front of his face. One of my nieces would always fall asleep on me. Or that was my story. My sister pointed out that when she left the room, the baby was asleep in her cot, but by the time she got back, she'd mysteriously made her way to my lap. This particular baby, nephew number seven, was fascinated by faces. Whenever I held him would wriggle and writhe until he had managed to twist his body around so he could look me in the eyes, smiling and batting his long, beautiful eyelashes.
The baby in the mirror
The baby in the mirror
The baby in the mirror
I was standing in the lobby of a hotel in Mozambique, holding my six-month-old nephew on my hip. I don't have any children but I have nine nieces and nephews, and this was number seven. I love holding babies. I love their fat solid weight, their hot little hands, I love their sweet sour smell, I love how easy it is to love a baby, you can just keep pouring love in and they are never full even though they are such a very small vessel. All babies are different to hold. One of my nephews had to be entertained all the time, even when you were holding him, or he would scream. I'd hold him in one arm and use the other hand to make marionette movements in front of his face. One of my nieces would always fall asleep on me. Or that was my story. My sister pointed out that when she left the room, the baby was asleep in her cot, but by the time she got back, she'd mysteriously made her way to my lap. This particular baby, nephew number seven, was fascinated by faces. Whenever I held him would wriggle and writhe until he had managed to twist his body around so he could look me in the eyes, smiling and batting his long, beautiful eyelashes.