Lucy Bamboo · July 15, 2026
She was sitting in a patch of afternoon sun, talking to a wooden spoon. The spoon was named Gerald. Gerald had opinions about the dog next door and strong feelings about applesauce. I stood in the kitchen doorway for probably three full minutes just watching her build an entire world out of nothing — no … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 15, 2026
She found the old Bluetooth speaker on a shelf last Tuesday — the one we use for music, no assistant enabled — and said “Hello?” to it. Just like that, casually, the way you’d greet a person. Then she waited. I watched her face cycle through something: expectation, then confusion, then a small, philosophical shrug … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 14, 2026
She is standing in the middle of the living room holding a wooden spoon, and she has been standing there for almost three minutes. I know because I have been watching the clock on the microwave from the kitchen doorway, which is perhaps not a thing I should admit, but there it is. The spoon … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 12, 2026
The blocks had been on the floor for three days before she touched them. They sat in the corner of the living room where I had arranged them — hopefully, a little foolishly — into a low tower, an invitation. She walked past them to get to the laundry basket, which she was very interested … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 11, 2026
She was standing at my knee, holding a wooden spoon she had carried from the kitchen for reasons known only to her, and she was watching my face. Not asking for anything. Not making a sound. Just watching the light from my phone move across my eyes while I stood at the counter and scrolled … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 9, 2026
The book is called Where Is Baby’s Belly Button? and by eleven o’clock this morning I had read it aloud eight times. It is a lift-the-flap board book, twenty-two pages, and several of the flaps have been lifted so many thousands of times that they no longer lie flat — they curl up at the … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 8, 2026
A sound machine arrived with the diaper bag from a friend from the prenatal group. It was already set to what I can only describe as active tarmac. I left it on for a week before I started wondering what, exactly, I had plugged in six inches from her head. She’s two now, and we … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 7, 2026
The peas went first. Not thrown exactly — more released, deliberately, over the edge of the tray with a kind of scientific detachment, one at a time, each one landing with a small tick on the kitchen tile. Maren watched each one fall. Then she looked at me. Then she looked at the place on … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 5, 2026
She was at the top of a boulder at the edge of the playground — not a big-for-a-toddler pebble, a real one, taller than she is and then some, with a flat top she’d hauled herself onto using footholds she’d worked out on her own. I could see her knees shaking from a few feet … Read more
Lucy Bamboo · July 4, 2026
The sound started at 9:14 in the morning, which I know because I had just looked at the clock above the stove and thought, with some desperation, that there were still four and a half hours until her nap. Then she found the cupboard. It’s the low one to the left of the sink, the … Read more
