Sneaky Milestones

Every parent watches for milestones in their child’s development. There are many obvious milestones, particularly with small babies: the first time they roll over, or sit up without help, or take those first tentative steps. Some milestones come a bit more gradually: learning to talk or read or ride a bike or use the toilet, or outgrowing a car seat or a high chair. Some of them are specific events, like the first day of school, or the first sleepover at a friend’s house, or senior prom, or going away to college. But there are many other milestones that are more subtle, but equally as powerful in reminding parents that their children are growing up. They’re the milestones that sneak up on you.

I hit one of those sneaky milestones the other day when my son and I came inside after playing in the snow. After I hung up my coat in the closet, instead of hanging my son’s parka on the hook when I usually put it, without thinking I grabbed another coat hanger and put his coat on it. As I was reaching to hang the hanger on the rod next to my own coat, it suddenly struck me: My son is grown-up enough that his clothes fit on adult-sized hangers.

There are other sneaky milestones that you often don’t think about until they’ve passed. Things like not having to hold your child’s hand in the parking lot because you can trust him to stay close to you. Not having to remind her to say please and thank you. Letting them play in the yard unsupervised. Leaving them in a room with an open box of crayons knowing you won’t come back to graffiti on the walls. Realizing that the subjects of their paintings are recognizable as people or animals or houses. These are the sneaky milestones that can easily slip past without notice. But they are still hallmarks of development, quiet proclamations that your child is growing up right in front of you.

My son is only three years old, but already I find myself looking back at his baby pictures and wondering where the time went. My mind boggles that in the short span of three years, he has transformed from a personality-less (but adorable) lump into an articulate, interesting, polite, smart young man.

Whose clothes fit onto adult-sized hangers. Wow.

The Universality of Babies

Last night we watched the movie, “Babies”. The film is a fascinating – and almost entirely wordless – documentary following four babies from different parts of the world through their first year or so of life.

The opening of the film shows a close-up of a heavily pregnant mother in Namibia grinding berries to make a kind of red dye that she uses to paint her belly. We see a seconds-old baby, still connected to her mother by her umbilical cord, in a modern hospital in Tokyo. We see an hours-old baby in San Francisco, hooked up to tubes and monitors in another modern hospital. And we see a days-old baby being tightly swaddled in blankets and tucked in his mother’s arms as she climbs onto the back of a motorbike, apparently for the trip back to her home in Mongolia.

As the movie progresses, each group of scenes seems to have a kind of a theme: how the babies eat, how the babies interact with their siblings and parents and pets, the various environmental dangers that the babies face. Some groups of scenes are remarkably similar, and some are literally worlds apart. We see each baby being fed by its parents – in three cases, being nursed by a mother, and in the fourth, being given a bottle by a father. The details may be different – the Namibian mother, for example, nurses her baby while sitting in the dirt, leaning over him to grind grain, while a second, slightly older baby nurses at her other breast, while the Japanese mother reclines comfortably in her bed as she nurses – but the essentials are universal. Even the sibling interactions are hilariously similar. The Mongolian baby sits in the middle of a yurt draped with colorful woven rugs and wails periodically as his older brother flicks him in the face with a scrap of cloth. The Namibian baby sits on the ground and periodically wails as his older brother pushes him away. One of the funniest sequences in the entire film is a series of scenes involving very patient and long-suffering family cats. We see one of the babies looking on as his brother pulls on a leash around the neck of a large (and recumbent) cat, the cat limply allowing itself to be dragged with an expression on its face that would certainly be an eyeroll, if cats could roll their eyes. We see another baby sitting with a similarly patient cat on his lap, roughly grabbing at the cat’s fur and ear as the cat simply lies there, apparently resigned to its fate. And in an especially hysterical transition, we then cut to one more cat, carefully sitting out of reach of a baby and watching it warily.

Even the scenes that show how different the babies’ upbringings are have a core of universality, though. We see the Namibian baby calmly playing in the dirt as a herd of cattle wanders around him, the solid, powerful hooves looking no less dangerous than the heavy, wicked horns. The Mongolian child lies on a rug-draped couch as a large rooster with huge, dagger-like spurs casually hops up and saunters past. The American child careens across a playground on a little car, plowing through a crowded sidewalk and face-planting magnificently in a large sandbox. The dangers may vary from place to place, but there are dangers in every environment, no matter how primitive or how progressive.

But aside from the anthropological fascination I found with the film, I was also fascinated with how much of Ryan I saw in each baby. From the funny little newborn facial expressions, to the wide-eyed curiosity, to the babbling and mouth sounds, to random objects going directly into the mouth, to the jelly-legged attempts to stand up, there was a sense of familiarity in every scene and with every child. The soft cooing and singing of the mothers as they rocked sleepy babies made me smile as I thought of myself doing the same thing. Even the tightening in my chest as I saw each baby in danger of being hurt was recognizable as a sensation felt by every parent in a similar situation.

Ryan is not exactly like any other baby that ever has or ever will be on this earth, but there are some things about his life that have been experienced by every other baby that ever has or ever will be on this earth. It’s a wonderful blend of uniqueness and commonality.

Handy Dandy

At just over five months old, Ryan is getting into the “exploring everything” stage. He’s finally getting some real control over his hands, and everything within his reach he wants to touch, taste, and manipulate.

He nearly always has something firmly in his grip, whether it’s his rag, my hair, his stuffed duckie, a frozen teether, or one of the toys on his exersaucer.

His hands are always as busy exploring as his eyes are! In fact, he’s often looking in one direction while his hands are grabbing at something in the complete opposite direction. There are too many things waiting to be explored to focus both senses on only one thing at a time! In his jumperoo, his eyes may be watching his shadow on the floor, but his hands are busy stroking and gripping the pleated fabric of the springs. In his exersaucer, his eyes are paying attention to the flashing lights on one side while his hands are spinning the steering wheel on the other. In my arms, he’ll look towards Daddy but reach over my shoulder to grab my hair. On the changing table, he looks toward the window on the far side of the room but his hands are reaching for the stuffed bear or the rag on his other side.

It’s amazing to watch him gain more and more control with each day. It used to be that he would only feel things when he accidentally brushed against them, then he learned to deliberately flail towards what he wanted, then he was able to specifically reach for something, and now with enough concentration he can pick something up with both hands and grasp it, move it around, and put it in his mouth. He’s getting bolder and more curious every day.

I can imagine that one day those little hands may wield a scalpel as a surgeon, or a paintbrush as an artist, or a baton as a conductor, or a wrench as a plumber. But I bet that even then, in my mind’s eye I’ll still be seeing chubby little fingers covered in drool reaching out to explore the world.

Grasping at Straws - and Hippos, and Monkeys, and Bears

Ryan is reaching the stage where he is finally starting to be able to control his hands. He started off by randomly flailing in the general direction of what he wanted, then by deliberately flailing more specifically in the direction of what he wanted, and now he has enough control to actually deliberately bat at what he wants and most of the time, with enough persistence, grasp it. It's a very exciting time!

As with anything else, he has a few favorite things that he loves to hang onto. One of the first objects he did well at grabbing was a plastic ball made of rings:

He likes it because it rattles, it's good to chew on, and if he flails in its general direction, his fingers get caught in the rings and he can hang onto it fairly easily. It also makes very good noises when he flings it across the room. (By accident, now - no doubt it will be very much on purpose in the weeks and months to come.)

Another highly grabbable toy is his teddy bear:

Bear is very soft and squeezable so any part that Ryan grabs allows for a good handhold. Bear has the added benefit of having many chew-worthy parts: ears, hands, feet, even the brim of his hat and his little curls. Ryan doesn't seem to mind the lint factor; apparently the nappy texture that would make an adult gag feels just lovely on those tender gums. Bear can also be squashed extremely tightly to the body without damage to either baby or bear, which is apparently a very positive trait in Ryan's mind.

Of course, his beloved spitrags also belong in the grabbable category:

Not only can they be grasped at any point, tugged in any direction, and are useful for chewing, waving around, and dropping on the floor, there are literally four dozen of them in the house so there is always one (or five) close at hand.

But by far the most fun toys to grasp these days are the animals hanging from his bouncy chair:

The lion in the middle plays music (or purrs, or meows - which will be very confusing when we learn the animal noises: "What does the lion say?" "Meow!" "No, the cat says 'meow'. The lion says 'roar'." "Not MY lion, Mummy!") when you pull his ring, the monkey on one side rattles, and the hippo on the other jingles. The lion is still a bit too far for him to reach (although he does bat toward it often), but he absolutely delights in hooking his wee little fingers through the hippo's and monkey's rings and shaking them all over! The drawback to this toy is that the weight limit of the chair is 25 pounds, and since he currently weighs 24 pounds...well, YOU do the math. He's practically bottoming out in the chair now anyway, and at that angle whenever he bats at the lion the rebound nearly smacks him in the face so it's probably a good thing we stop that one soon.

I can only imagine what he'll be grabbing on to next. Anything within his reach, I'm sure! I love watching him gain more and more control day by day, and although my life will be made much more difficult once he can grab things on his own, it will also be much more exciting!