Hands

Baby Three has been making good use of her hands lately, at least from her perspective.

She used them to twirl her hair – short as it is – when she is sleepy, and to chew on when her gums are bothering her. She uses them to grab anything within reach – cell phones are a favorite, and anyone with a coffee cup had best keep it well away from her. Her favorite thing to grab is hair – she prefers Kid Two’s auburn locks, but since he got his back-to-school haircut, that’s not as easy as it once was. So she’ll settle for mine, Big T’s, Kid One’s, the lady in the chair in front of us at hockey registration (sorry!); if it’s hair, it was put on earth for her to pull it.

While she’s going about developing her fine motor skills, I’m having fun watching her hands. They’re chubby baby hands, with dimples at the knuckles and a crease at the wrist. The fingers are slender and long, and their joints are clearly articulated. If she wants to, I think she has a future as a piano player.

Other than the baby fat, they remind me of the hands of Kid One, who, alas, gave up the piano because it took too much practice. But now Kid One likes to wear polish on the long nails that go with the long fingers, and the other day she was wearing a ring. Costume jewelry, yes, but she’s lightyears beyond the plastic Halloween spider rings.

Kid Two’s hands no longer look like baby hands anymore, either. His have turned into boy hands, already showing signs of the man hands he will have as he gets older. The fingers are broad and not as long, with blunt ends and short nails, the better for hockey and baseball.

When Baby Three is with me, she uses her hands to touch me, all the time. She puts them on my arms and face and shoulders. And it’s not just me; she’ll do that to just about anyone holding her.

The big kids, of course, don’t touch as much any more. That goes with the territory. But this spring, when I took Kid Two to a baseball game, he held my hand when we walked from the parking lot into the stadium. It felt wonderful.

I’ve got some time before Baby Three progresses to handholding, but then I’ve got a few years left. Another thing to give thanks for.