baby Finn: a squirming paradox at one month

How can your fragile, flailing arms, jerking and aimless, wield hands that clutch like a vice-grip? Your tender, pink-gummed mouth, toothless and speechless, rattle and condemn me so easily with one scream? Your wide, searching eyes that see only shapes and shadows beyond a few feet, lock and root me in place?

mommy's monster

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