Price of a Grin

It’s a little ironic, having a baby rather hampers one’s ability to write about having a baby.  So let me try to catch you up.

S is now 3 months. This means that he is unable to keep quiet, whether it is bellowing because he hasn’t been fed something for at least 5 minutes, or chatting away to himself whilst admiring his reflection in the mirror. I’ve told him that all this eating isn’t going to improve his figure and that at the rate he is going he won’t be able to get close enough to the mirror to admire anything.  So far he hasn’t listened to me, I suppose he’s starting as he means to go on.

Being 3 months also means he is beginning to giggle, which is great, for the one person in the house who can actually get him to make the magical noise.  S’s attraction to this person became evident very early on, he smiled and was generally very cheerful with them from an early age whilst the rest of us were merely gurned at until the little dictator had got what he wanted.  And this connection has only grown. 

Just this evening S was steadfastly ignoring the efforts of his mother to make him smile, or grin, or even respond in any way.  She tried a number of ways which usually bore fruit but on this occasion nothing was working, he sat in her lap stony faced as she tickled and smiled and laughed and bounced him.  I’m not sure if you’ve ever witnessed a young, pretty podgy, baby who is determined not to pay any attention to you.  It’s like watching a grandmaster take part in a high school chess match, it soon becomes very obvious that the parent is vastly overmatched as their attempts to raise the baby’s interest become more and more desperate whilst the baby, like a cat toying with a mouse, every now and then drops the slightest hint that it might be interested in playing, followed by a shutdown worthy of the Seattle Seahawks. 

It was such a performance this evening, S was at his imperious best, swatting away all of B’s valiant efforts at interaction with the ease of Andy Murray despatching a cross court backhand.  This was the case until a radical element was introduced into the mix.  This particular catalyst of fun was none other than the daughter who bounded in, much like a particularly lively Tigger.  At this the son immediately turned his head, grinned a mighty grin, which encouraged N to further efforts, almost causing a mini-storm in the dining room with her spinning.  This caused S to smile and gurgle and begin to chatter away like the most extrovert bon vivant you’ve ever seen.  The nice thing is when he is finally induced into being cheerful by his sister he will occasionally spread the joy around and B and I are graced with a small smile and little burble.  At this point we’ll really take what we can get.

It seems like he and N have hit it off, I’m just worried about what they’re plotting. I barely kept my head above the water with one, two of them acting in cahoots is not really a contest I have any hope of coming out of without being totally humiliated.