Last Friday, Kirin turned 12 weeks/three months old and we found ourselves asking a question that I imagine every parent does: where has the time gone? (I am pretty sure, this mantra will be repeated at every milestone of life: first day of school; last day of school; marriage; kids...)
Some thoughts on the story so far.
Noises onKirin has started to make all sorts of noises, and every day seems to offer a new sound. The most wonderful, of course, is laughter. Even if it only lasts for a moment, it makes you think you have an inordinately positive connection with your child ("See, he likes me!") and, at the same time, a certain power ("I knew I could make him feel better.").
More recently, there has been the hint of something approaching words. Of course, he isn't speaking yet but we have moved on from the basic grunt/gurgle to sounds that last more than a second and have some variation in tone.
Intellectually, it throws up all sorts of fascinating questions (any child psychologists out there?). Kirin is surrounded by different languages and accents - Johanna with her English accent, me with my Canadian one; the odd bit of Punjabi, French or Brazilian Portuguese; and all sorts of music, from Urdu ghazals, Jack Johnson and PJ Harvey to Spanish rap, Maria Bethania and Miles Davis. How does he process it all? Is he able to distinguish these conflicting signals? And how does he learn that when Johanna calls him Sweetheart, I call him Lovely and we both occasionally say Kirin or, Kirininho, that these are all referring to him?
MovementKirin has suddenly discovered a whole host of fun things to do with his body.
First, if you lay him on his back and grab on to his wrists to pull him up, he arches his back and tries to pull his head forward in anticipation. He has been conditioned to know what our hands on his wrists mean, and the smile on his face suggests he likes it.
Second, in an encouraging development, he seems to love exercising. It started in the womb - Johanna did a lot of yoga during pregnancy - and seems to have continued into life on the outside. Our routine involves the following: sit-ups, whereby he sits on my/Johanna's legs and smiles as I/she bring my head up and down; push-ups, whereby he lays on his back and I/Johanna go up and down above him; and, finally, he stands up on my/Johanna's stomach and I/Johanna merely blow in and out, creating a sort of trampoline effect for him. It's amazing, but throughout all of this his entire face grins and he dribbles away in the delirium of happiness.
Seeing thingsKirin has recently revealed a new trick: he needs constant stimulation. Most books and new parents talk about overstimulation but in our case, boredom seems to be an equally great bogeyman.
In practical terms, this means we now hold him outwards so that he can see the world. Yesterday, we went to the
Persia exhibition at the Britsh Museum. While Johanna learned about a vast empire, I walked around with Kirin strapped on to me in the Baby Björn facing outwards. (For an idea of how we looked, think of
Dr Evil and Mini-me, in
Goldmember.) Kirin was great, not making a peep throughout the whole exhibition. He even seemed interested in the displays, and especially the pot handle in the shape of a leaping ibex.
Where has the time gone? Feeding, sleeping, working and changing diapers. We wouldn't change it for the world.
When you have a baby, it is amazing how excited you can become about the quotidian events of life. A burp becomes an achievement, moving your child from the car to the house without waking him up is a cause for quiet celebration and gurgling noises sound like Shakespearean English.
