See this hand of mine, it has many uses. It washes clothes, writes blog posts, holds my phone, brushes my kids’ hair, burns fish fingers, brings the wine glass to my lips, does “jobs”, guides the steering wheel and is very adept at flipping the bird, but recently it has evolved into something else entirely.
It is now Bubba.
My youngest child cradles Bubba, like my hand was her own baby. When Bubba cries, she feeds it. When it’s thirsty, she gives it a drink. When Bubba is sad, she kisses it. She pushes my hand into the sky and whispers: “Fly Bubba, fly”. Then she reaches out, grabbing my hand: “Enough Bubba”. Sometimes Bubba tickles her and she squeals: “No Bubba, stop it”. Other times Bubba hides and she gently pulls Bubba close and croons: “C’mon Bubba, you’re tirded(sic) Bubba”.
Miss 2.5yo finds such comfort from this slightly odd behaviour. I’m quite encouraging of it when I need an extra few minutes of sleep. It’s just when we are out shopping and she grabs my hand, whips up her top and starts breastfeeding my hand. Awkward.
Being a parent is full of weird. There are things you can simply can never expect. These are things that are not in baby handbooks.
Got to go, Bubba needs coffee.