Babies come equipped to cry. They cry when hunger pinches their tummies an hour after their last meal, when their bottom’s wet or a chill hits them.
Very quickly, however, with full tummies, dry bottoms and warm clothes, they open their eyes, look around, smile and emit a happy coo. The first coo absolutely enthralled my daughter, the mother of our newest grandchild. Her delight in his speech went up another notch the day he discovered he could control the sound.
She called me in joyful bewilderment. In the background her three-month-old emitted a loud treble “AHHHH” up and down the scale.
“Listen to him. He has been doing that for 45 minutes. And he did it for an hour this morning.”
The baby didn’t sound angry or sad, just happy to be alive, happy to discover he could really make a LOT of noise and vary it – and that his mother would come smiling across the room to him when he hollered.
The little feller shared his sound making experience with his daddy. In a primitive male bonding ritual, the two hooted and hollered back and forth at each other making he-man noises.
The baby has discovered his voice.
Having discovered his voice, the child is not picky about conversational partners.
Last week, the family cat needed to go to the vet. My daughter loaded the cat into its carrier, the baby into his car seat and tucked both into the back seat.
The minute the car started, the cat yowled his protest at the indignity of it all.
Delighted to have another creature communicate on his level, the baby yowled back at the cat.
All the way to the vet’s, the two yowled back and forth, my daughter reported later – still laughing.
The cat hated that ride.
The baby loved it.
Just as the baby loved it the evening I visited and his mother leaned back in her seat and held him propped up against her knees and looked him square in the face.
She jabbered and laughed at him until he giggled and laughed back. Delighted, her face glowing, she tried again. He responded with a peal of baby giggles.
For ten minutes I watched the two commune with silly sounds, laughter and giggling – totally, joyfully absorbed. A mother and child bonding in their private little world. For a few precious moments of wonder, they connected intensely – validating that this little miracle merited his mother’s conviction that she has one fantastic child.
It’s a title the youngest grandchild certainly deserves on the nights he wakes up – and instead of crying for service – he lays in the dark, entertaining himself by practicing all the sounds he knows.
Last week he added a new sound. His mother slid him into his exersaucer with its array of rattles, spinners and music boxes to keep him busy while she prepared supper. As she measured out ingredients, she heard him quietly chanting, “Mum, mum, mum.”
Okay, it isn’t quite yet ‘momma.’ That will come. For now, it is much better than a crying baby any day.