My Son

You probably have to die, but no-one says you have to go quietly
I watch my son grow
Learn to think.
How speech comes from thought
And thought is growing.

That he loves to communicate.
To really be known and understood.
How precious that is.
And how words grow inside him.

And how his soul burns.
How he flames with life.
So rough. So loving.

My friend.

Benjamin is rough, too rough. I played with him last night, whilst waiting for him to fall asleep. Every time I stopped playing with him he'd wait for his opportunity and then poke me in the eye to get my attention again. Little git. I tried to be cross but it was too funny.

One of the most fun aspects of teaching him is teaching him to be gentle without squashing the life and roughness out of him. I teach him it's ok to be rough with me, but he must control it. He must learn to control himself. He's not allowed to be rough with Delia at all, and he knows it (he doesn't always stick to it, but he knows it). He's allowed to be rough with Irina, but only with the limits she sets. That one's harder but he's getting there, Irina can be quite fierce when she wants to which helps.

Rosie, our cat, has her own way of teaching Benjamin to be gentle...

"The more compassionate you are with yourself the more compassionate you're able to be with others. And vice-versa. Being compassionate means understanding without blaming or judging. It doesn't mean excusing or denying problems."

Popular posts from this blog

The Jesus Army and the Independent Inquiry into Childhood Sexual Abuse

Commentary on Brexit and Thoughts on Patriotism

The Bible: The Good Parts