I have a touch of claustrophobia, at times. I will not be bound. I will bite if I cannot move, and when I take up space I stretch so far my joints make popcorn noises.
Maymay, on the other hand, blisses out in tiny spaces. One night I folded his arms over his chest in a cross and tied them down that way. I’ve never seen him smile so wide. In bed, he wraps the blankets ’round himself like a burrito, or wedges his ass into my belly and folds his body into every nook and cranny of my own. Even day to day, in the way he sits and stands and walks, there is restraint. He holds his lips in, sometimes, and it makes me a little bit regretful because he has such lovely lips.
I joke that he is pocket sized. I want to create some sort of sac that I could fold him into, like fetal mummification. We play sometimes that he is verysmall and I am verylarge.
It is only when he sleeps that his restraint truly relaxes. When I wake up in the morning and shut off my alarm before he can roll over, he will be tumbled out along the sheets all fingers, legs, loose and parted lips. Then he is slinky long, and looks like a grown up, or a statue in white stone.
