[Something like a poem] You, drinking with single-minded focus.

You, at nine months old.


Clutching your baby bottle tightly with both hands,

you are drinking your milk with single-minded focus.



Have you gone three days without food or drink?


No, that is certainly not the case.


You just finished off your baby food in a flash a moment ago.



Under your romper, your tummy is plump and full.


"Aren't you uncomfortable?" I ask.


You, while staring right at me,

just keep drinking your milk with single-minded focus.



It is as if you, who cannot speak yet,

are saying, "Don't worry, Mama. Milk is a separate stomach."

It is as if you are saying that.

Graduating from milk is still a long way off.


But that day will surely come eventually.


Before long, you will let go of your baby bottle.


And then I will regret it.



Wishing I could have watched you

drinking your milk with single-minded focus even more.



That cute, oh-so-cute sight.


I will firmly burn it into my eyes.


I will burn it into my memory with single-minded focus.