Last month, in Villas del Sol, I met Leo.
You know Leo? My grandson, Noah’s and Sabrina’s son, Timmy’s little brother? I didn’t, I discovered. I loved him but I didn’t know him. He was just a generic baby until that trip.
Now, however, I know Leo as a person, with a personality; like I know Christopher, Timmy, and Eva. I can feel him smile, I can feel him worry sometimes, at least by looking at his face. This is Leo Parsons. There we are in the picture, Leo and me, sharing a moment.
Leo and I shared moments. Several times I kept him company while he slept in the shade of the Palapa on the beach during the heat of the day. He was wrapped in a towel on one chaise and I was reading on the next chaise, both of them pushed together. Leo would wake up and I would see first curiosity in his blue eyes, and then, quite quickly, peaceful recognition. “Oh yes, I’m on the beach, and my granddad is here with me.” He would then drift back to sleep.
Leo frequently smiled in his sleep.
When I fed Leo, he used mouth motions and sparkling eyes to establish a definite line of communication with me. He engaged me as surely as the computer engages the cellphone when they synchronize over a cable. This was not just feeding, this was also communicating. He wanted to watch me smile and react when he opened the mouth to ask me for the next bite. He connects the mouth opening with the eyes sparkling, and he wanted me to see that. He was even showing off, proud of himself. He wanted me to tell him parents how good he was. I could tell that.
Leo was getting less-than-super-healthy Mexican Comercial Mexicana baby food, which he seemed to like. His eyes told me he particularly enjoyed having his own version of junk food, the short-term escape from the law of Sundance. I could tell that.
Leo liked to wander freely around the floor, crawling, standing himself up on things like couches and tables, seeking cables to chew on, and looking for mischief. He clearly liked that much better with company, though. He wanted me not just to watch him but to appreciate him, talk about what he was doing that he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He wanted me to join him in the drama.
How much of this was Sabrina’s doing, how much Noah’s? I’m intrigued with the question. They certainly made it easy to know Leo. Was that just convenience, or were they doing that on purpose? That’s hard to tell, and doesn’t really matter.
Was this quality time or quantity time? I think you need quantity to get quality.
I’m sure this same kind of thing happened with Christopher, Timmy, and Eva, because I have the same sense of love and bonding with all three. But I’m writing now, and I’m more aware of how and when and what, so this is about Leo. Hello Leo.
