The baby is almost two-week old. His feature starts to take shape: a dimple on the left cheek and double eyelids sometimes emerge, fleetingly, when he is making certain expressions. During the day still sleep mostly, but moving his arms and legs rather actively. And yawn a lot. I’d never seen anyone yawning in their sleep before.
After he came home I don’t have much to do, just watching him sleep ever now and then. As I stand by his crib I often think how different time must feel to him. In these 12 days of his life, even without a conscience, each must be so much more significant to him than to me. Each day he is getting stronger in his sleep, acquiring life at a brisk speed. It must be a very fulfilling feeling. He just eats and sleeps, wakes up and calls for his meal, and instantly goes back to sleep again afterwards, no one is more dedicated and focused on self-betterment than he does. Every move he makes is without any purpose but at the same time looks so determined, forceful, with all his might. He usually wakes up around 8 or 9pm for an hour or two, just lying there staring into the distance without an expression, like he has something on his mind, and can’t be bothered.
Two-weeks, which means my vacation is half over. I try to imagine life afterwards, go off in the morning and return at indeterminable hours at night, not being by his side every waking moment, like now. It’s unimaginable.
Wang Maomao 