The Parenting Arcana

Wide-eyed off the cliff with a diaper bag and pure hope.

Bottle, book, exact blanket — you conjure sleep from chaos.

You read the cry before it crests. You simply know.

Cornucopia of goldfish, pouches, and one emergency lollipop.

Down at eye level, calm and steady, naming every feeling.

White coat, growth chart, the sacred 'it's just a virus.'

Two of you, a candle, and a sitter — you remember each other.

You hold the line and win the five-point buckle by sheer will.

Soft endurance — you hold the whole sleeping world to your chest.

One lantern lights the shoe sizes only you remember to track.

The wheel turns — roll, crawl, stand, walk, all in time.

Scales held level: one treat weighed against two more minutes.

You hang it all up; the emails fall away, the fever wins your day.

The crib becomes a bed; the last onesie folds into memory.

You pour calm between the cups and the big feeling settles.

The glowing tablet buys you one quiet, blessed, steaming shower.

The tower falls in public and you are reborn humbler.

A sticky hand reaches up and the whole dark year makes sense.

A small face an inch from yours in the blue pre-dawn hush.

A silly face, a dropped spoon, and helpless golden giggling.

The trumpet sounds and the perfect imagined child fades away.

The blowouts and 3am stars wreathe into the whole loud home.