ephraim's ride

He calls from his room - in a desperate pleading tone....
Six voices cry out in unison, begging to be the one to rescue him.
One child is chosen - and comes triumphantly down the stairs carrying their happy burden.
His eyes lock on mine... "Come get me. i want *you*. Hold me."
i pluck him from protesting arms - and cradle him in safety for the moment.
Before long, he wiggles to the ground - my four footed baby - happily exploring from his unique vantage all that the world has to offer... the recycling baskets, an open bathroom door quickly slammed shut, the underside of the piano, the cupboard doors that open with no resistance to curious chubby hands.. Paper is torn, crumbs tasted, small stools are climbed and conquered...
He finds me again - but before he can reach me - he is grabbed, teased, thrown in the air and caught again... he twists and turns in his captor's grasp - trying to find me with his blue piercing eyes.
Rescued.
In mama's arms again - nose wiped, tummy filled, diapers changed. Mama's arms mean safety, comfort and protection from the chaos... He wants to stay there - and complains when he is unceremoniously plopped back on the floor as mama extinguishes fire after fire...
A new captor finds him - and flings him in the air - swooping him in circles... despite mama's warning that baby has just eaten and he might... or probably will... no - most definitely will... better yet *just did*...
Is there a slight smirk of victory on that little one's face as he is released to mama's arms once again - and the captor is left to clean up the small puddle on the floor?
Perhaps...
But this is just par for the course - on Ephraim's ride.