We have been in the kitchen this week making a mess, perhaps even a little more mess than I imagined.  Throwing together some banana muffins, we weighed out the ingredients and then you poured them into the mixing bowl.  The allure of eating the sugar right out of the bowl remains, even when it is covered in flour.  (That there is a dedication to sugar.)  However, this pales in comparison to the mess you made, uninterrupted in the kitchen as I was feeding E in the living room.  I knew it has been too quiet for far too long, I open the door to see you covered from head to toe in flour, a crumpled up bag lying dormant on the floor and the contents strewn across the floor, walls, dining table and chairs.

You are so strong, moving those hands of yours with more purpose every day, your face clearly showing your determination.  You’ve been awake for longer stretches these last few days, watching us with interest and learnt to settle yourself by sucking your thumb.  You giggle with pure joy when we all dance to the music on the radio.  We move your arms around to the music and your brother thinks it’s the most hilarious thing in the world shouting “baby dancing”.  I know one day you’ll be able to do these things all on your own and he will be overcome with excitement.  Those hands are ready to explore the world but at night when the world slows I get to hold them as we drift off to sleep and it is blissful.