A Little Baby Hop for Your Scroll
A little baby hop for your scroll, and for my diary tonight. I am Azmi, writing from Meknes, and today my youngest gave me exactly one bounce: ears up, body bright, then gone around the corner before I could even laugh properly. Right in the middle of it came a tiny binky, a twist of pure joy that brightened my whole day. This post is my field catalog of baby hops, written so I can remember every flavor of that half-second happiness.
How to read this catalog
Think of this like a nature diary kept by an amateur who loves his subject too much. Each entry below describes one hop type I have seen at home, what it looks like, when it happens, and what I do in response. Nothing here is advice. I simply watch, write, and enjoy. My responses are always the same: stay calm, keep the floor clear, let the rabbit set the pace, and never chase a bun who is having fun.
Entry one: the single pop
The single pop is the shortest poem in the rabbit world. All four paws leave the ground at once, the body hangs for a heartbeat, and then the landing is soft and silent. Tonight’s hop was a perfect single pop, performed on the rug between the couch and the hallway. One bounce, ears up, gone. I clapped once before I could stop myself, and from around the corner I heard a thump of acknowledgement, or possibly laughter. Baby hops count double in my personal sheet, by household law, because they carry twice the joy per inch of air.
Entry two: the binky twist
The binky twist is the single pop with added mischief. Mid-air, the rabbit flicks the head, twists the shoulders, and kicks one or both back feet sideways, as if joy briefly broke the laws of physics. The twist I saw today was small but unmistakable, a half-turn that said this bun feels wonderful in his own skin. I keep my camera ready at what I call zoom o clock, that evening hour when the light slants in and the buns get electric. Most evenings I miss the shot. Today I missed it too, and I do not mind. Some moments are better kept in memory than on a screen.
Entry three: the hallway rocket
The hallway rocket is less vertical and more horizontal: a sprint of three or four strides with a bounce woven through, usually ending in a dramatic skid turn. My little one performs rockets when the house is calm and the floor path is clear. I make sure the rug lies flat, the cords are hidden, and the doorway is free of obstacles before evening play. Then I sit on the floor out of the runway and let him choose his route. Tonight the rocket ended behind the curtain, where he sat breathing fast with bright eyes, clearly proud of himself.
Rockets remind me of the sunset zoom sessions I love, the ones I described in my zoomies sunset diary. Same energy, smaller package. The baby version is slower and wobblier, with landings that sometimes overshoot the mark, but the delight is identical. I laugh every time, and he seems to hop harder when I laugh, which tells me everything I need to know about our friendship.
Entry four: the sleepy bounce
The sleepy bounce happens when a drowsy bun suddenly remembers that joy exists. He will be half loafed, eyes heavy, and then without warning he pops straight up, lands, looks surprised at himself, and flops back down. I witnessed one last week after a long nap, and it remains one of my favorite memories of the month. There is something deeply encouraging about a creature who interrupts his own nap to celebrate being alive. I petted his forehead afterward, and he ground his teeth softly, which is his way of purring.
Entry five: the invitation hop
The invitation hop is performed directly in front of a human, with eye contact. Two small bounces, a pause, a look that says did you see that, and then a third bounce for emphasis. This is the hop that turns me into an applauding fool on my own living room floor. I respond with gentle praise and an open hand, never grabbing, letting him come closer if he wants. Usually he does. He boops my knee with his nose and then races off, which I interpret as thank you for watching, show over.
Night sessions like these are why I set up my little camera corner, the setup I wrote about in my pet camera nights log. Most of the best hops happen when I am not holding the phone. The camera catches what I miss: the 2am popcorn run, the dawn hallway rocket, the shy practice hops when nobody is watching. Scrolling those clips the next morning with my coffee is pure pleasure, confirmed and delivered, every single time.
Field notes on watching well
- Keep the floor clear and the rugs flat before evening play begins
- Sit low and still, hands open, voice soft, applause gentle
- Never chase, never grab mid-hop, let every landing belong to the bun
- Log the good ones in the diary while the feeling is fresh
Thank you so much, bunbun, for tonight’s performance. Day: brightened. Scroll: worth it. Can confirm: is a pleasure. I logged this certified fresh hop in the diary with a star beside it, and I will reread this entry on the next grey day when I need light. One bounce, ears up, gone, with a binky folded into the middle like a secret. May every scroll tonight end with the same small lift in the chest that I felt watching it live.
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