Quiet at Night
Yesterday night, with an hour and a half still left until bed, little Ess was getting antsy in the Björn, acting like she was trying to escape. So, we took her up to the warm and cozy upstairs and just set her on our bed, with only one thing in front of her, her pacifier. Now, she has no particular affinity for sucking on any pacifier for longer than 10 seconds, employing a cute but slightly frustrating tongue thrust to pop it out of her mouth. But, she does like to hold it and understand it, with its purple flange and contrasting sides, one a soft silicone and the other a hard plastic.
We laid down on either side of Ess, spotting her as she sat, and she could not have been more content. All the antsy-ness from downstairs evaporated and she become totally engrossed in figuring out this pacifier. I expounded on a nascent theory to Mykala, a habit of mine for which she has infinite patience, which was roughly: the endless toys, lights, and music we surround our babies with are purportedly to provide stimulation. However, the world is so new, so bright, so colorful, so filled with wonderful minutiae, that babies require remarkably little newness in front of them for healthy stimulation. Rather, it is the adults that feel uncomfortable if they perceive a lack of interesting items strewn about for stimulation. In a picture, would you rather see a baby in the middle of a bed holding a pacifier, or surrounded by adorable playthings of endless variety? Adults pick the latter which, as far as I can tell, overwhelms babies.
The unstructured calm reminded me a scene from the 2010 film Babies by Thomas Balmès. While the mother goes about her daily tasks, her baby is seated on the floor next to her, with what appears to be ostensibly little “to do.” But, as the measured pace of the movie illustrates, this baby feels perfectly engaged and interested in the world around them, and is not bored or frustrated one bit. It is a remarkable scene because of the stark contrast it provides to child-rearing tenets in countries with greater material wealth. I found the very scene 30 minutes into the movie, actually. Here’s a screen shot of it:
While Mykala and I watched, there was one another big development in Essie’s world: our cat named George. He was on patrol, which he does each night, hoping to attract our attention and remind us to feed him. As you can imagine, if you are a baby sitting on a bed and a four legged hunter covered in fur walks up to you, it is pretty interesting. Ess would strrretch out her arm just as far as she could without toppling over, trying to touch kitty as he circled away and back. Then, she got an idea. This kitty would like my pacifier. So, each time George circled around, Mykala and I watched as her little tiny baby hand strrretched out, offering the cat her pacifier. She did this numerous times, and it was so touching it made us cry. Here’s our little girl, not even able to crawl yet, using all of her new energy and skills to offer to share her pacifier.
I’m hoping to make this quiet together time a habit; it is what we used to share when we went on walks during warmer weather.