Bubble Champ

BUBBLE CHAMP

August 4, 2025

Sometimes I want to wrap the whole world
in something like this. And him.

Soft.
Sealed.
Bubbles of air.
A warning,
a cushion,
a sign that says
we tried.

I used to pop these when I was younger.
It was thrilling to puncture them.
I loved the popping sound that immediately followed after.

A pincher grasping expert by this time.
They didn’t stand a chance.

Now I’m much older. And I want to hoard them.
For him.

The way we research every material.
The way we test water temperature three times,
even with a duck baby bath thermometer.
The way we don’t let him near latex balloons,
or us trying to cover every square inch of the porcelain floors with rugs.

Always near, for every pull up to stand.

Our desire to keep him safe
isn’t just about bruises.
It’s about the things
we can’t see coming.

The feelings that don’t bleed
but still hurt.
The names he might be called.
The loneliness that might find him.
The questions that might go unanswered.

We try to build layers.
Around his body.
Around his heart.
Around the parts of him
we hope stay pain free.

He doesn’t know what bubble wrap is yet.
But maybe one day,
he’ll understand
how many layers we added
just so he could fall
and not break.

Not once.
Not twice.
For life.