Description of a Child

Photo by Jc Laurio on

Today’s Write Practice – 07-26-2020

14 Prompts by Joe Bunting

The most vulnerable (and therefore interesting) people
are children. Describe a child, either one you know or
one you’ve made up.

Look at that adorable face! One long look later and she bursts out laughing. Another big breath and she’s desperately trying to put her flexible features back into a stern, Mona Lisa look. I love playing games with this darling child. She is too precious, if there’s such a thing. Her head turns away from me and I feel her beginning to slip from my mental grasp. I want to hold on to her; close and probably too tight.

She’s twirling around now, delicately holding up the sides of her bright pink ballerina skirt. She twirls once more and now faces me from across the room. She begins her regal walk towards me. You can tell she has a long train behind her. Every few glides she pauses and gives a slight nod over first her left and then her right ear, alternating as she draws closer to me. She’s loving this part and soon I will need to do my part and take a knee. Her slight steps tap lightly as she continues her wedding glide. No doubt remembering being the flower girl at her big sister’s wedding a month ago. Princess has officially left the building and dropped in her place, appears Queen Mother Lucy—she informed us.

She raises her imaginary sceptre and I slowly take a knee, keeping my face slightly averted and looking down. I feel the light tap on my right shoulder and briefly raise my eyes to hers. With a deep twinkle in her eyes she booms out, “I hereby Knight thee. You will now be called Sir Dad. You may rise. Tomorrow you will assume your new duties.”

And with that, she darted out of the room and down the hallway. Just as suddenly as she was Queen Mother Lucy, her imaginary train has disappeared and in its place, flaps a swirling cape. She’s off to save the day and be one of her favorite superheros.

I clamber to my feet and reach out for the nearest chair. Slowly, I shake my head, pensive. The years are flying by so fast. It seems it was only yesterday when she was a tiny bundle I held in my arms. I would stare at her for what seemed like hours as I watched the shadows of her lashes resting on those rosy round cheeks. How is it that this miniature person with the tiny hands and a grip of steel rules all of me? I can’t resist her dewy chocolate eyes, especially when they begin that slow fill until they are drowning—not in the least weakening her gaze. As those slow fat tears track down her downy cheeks, it’s all I can do not to blurt out, “What do I need to do to stop your crying? I can’t stand you hurting.”

When she’s not crying, she’s like one of her favorite hummingbirds she watches feeding, flitting from one room to the next, one toy to the next, one character to the next. Mattie’s almost positive she’ll be an actress one day. She continues to run circles around us and keeps us figuring out who she is each day, or many times a day, like today. Can I freeze time here and now?

I know it won’t be long and Supergirl will be a thing of the past. I have been catching fleeting glimpses of my wife’s beautiful face peeking out at me. I stop to rub my hands down my thighs. My palms are itchy. It’s time to get out my shotgun and take it apart, again. I’ll oil it up and put it back together, as quick as I can. I have to be ready. My baby girl isn’t dating until she’s 30!

By WriteLovey

Abba Father Love Inspired

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