Sophie's Frustrations

She continues to get better and better at grabbing things.  Today she grabbed my shirt as I was bending down to put her into the stroller (an operation she strenuously objected to).  So that was cute.

Other things she enjoys grabbing include her bumpy yellow ball, her Tupperware shapes, and her blanket.  Oh, she has great fun with the blanket.  When we take her outside and want to cover her up because it is sunny out and babies shouldn't get sun burns--when we cover her up she grins like a maniac and starts kick kick kicking her blanket off.  Or, now that the grabbing has started in earnest, she'll screw up her face, cackle with delight and sweep up as much blanket as possible with her arms.  Then she tries to eat the blanket.

Because this, it seems, is the logical progression once you (the infant) have learned how to grab things:  you put the things you have grabbed in your mouth.  It's what grabbing's for.

And this is where the frustration comes in, because one of Sophie's new favorite things to grab is (are) her toes.  She does this very well--much better than I can.  But try as she might, she can't get the toes in her mouth.

Luckily she's fairly easily distracted with a song and a silly dance, so it's not too frustrating.  But still.

Sophie's Lacanian Moment

And *boom* she constitutes herself as a sovereign individual in the visual field.  

Which just goes to show you how advanced she is.  (Lacan said the mirror stage is for 8-month-olds).

Sophie's Social Life

Sophie had a busy week.

On Tuesday (the 17th) she visited a signing class.  On Friday (the 20th) she went with us to a party.

She was a bit too young for the signing--though Annie and I enjoyed it.  But she did find the other kids, and the toys, and the bubbles, and just the general activity fascinating.  She's never been too very enthusiastic about holding her head up for tummy time.  I thought she was maybe just lazy, but it turns out she's just been uninspired.  When there's something worth looking at (i.e. something other than Annie or my face) she'll apparently push up and look without complaining.

After a while, it got to be too much, and she had to have some quiet time.  (I understand completely, I often feel that way after more than an hour in the mall.)  Most of the other kids seemed to feel the same way--except for the one little girl who actually was old enough for the signing who kept jumping around, shrieking excitedly and who complained vigorously when it was time to come home.  This is behavior I recognize from when Annie and I had the event at Jump City (several bouncy castles in a warehouse):  the younger kids/babies don't complain when it's time to go home, but the 3+ set certainly does.

Something to look forward to.

The party on Friday was an end-of-seminar event in somebody's backyard.  Sophie was putting on a good show, just generally being cute as she was passed from one female lap to the other (for some reason men hardly never ask to hold babies).  At one point she was surrounded by several cooing people all enthusiastically competing to tell her how cute and wonderful she was.  She sat there, calm and composed, as she gazed beneficently at her subjects and graciously received their tributes.

She even charmed the few times she cried.  "Oh," people said with a laugh, "Oh sweetie, it's okay.  How cute!"

WHERE ARE THESE PEOPLE AT THREE A.M.?

They laugh when we suggest they spend the night.  They think we are joking.

Sophie has hobbies

Sophie's new hobbies include:

1) Grabbing things with both hands and putting them in her mouth.  Like the yellow bumpy ball.  Or her cow rattle.  Or my finger.  When you're an infant everything looks like a nipple.  Her "grabbing" at this point is more like a kind of general inward sweep.  And sometimes she grabs something and apparently doesn't know how to let go.  But the general tenor and intentionality of her actions are clear:  "Hey whut's that thing?  I'm gonna put it in my mouth!"

2) Chilling out in her new stroller and charming passers-by.

3) Practicing stepping when held up on her feet.

4) "Razzing" (a kind of wet sibilant pffzffzfzfzfzfzfzfzfzfzfz-ing noise she makes with her lips).  This last can easily become a roar of rage when she feels ignored.

She continues to enjoy kicking off her blanket when she's in her car-seat and stroller.  She gets a wicked grin and does her coughing laugh and then kicks kicks kicks with abandon.  This is adorable in the daytime; less cute at 5:30 this morning.

Sophie's Yellow Ball

Laughing, Smiling, Vomiting

She's moved on from smiling to laughing now.

At first I thought it was just vocalizing in conjunction with a smile, but now I am prepared to recognize it as laughing.

This morning, while sitting on my chest and smiling down at me, she started coughing. I laid her on her back and she stopped, looking confused. Back on my chest, she gets all happy and starts coughing again. This is when it dawns on me that this is a laugh.

I fear she will be a cackler.

She's a ferocious eater now, and whereas she hardly ever spit up before, now she downs her meals with such slobbering haste that she will sometimes upchuck a bit. Luckily it doesn't seem to faze her.

She has also learned to roar in outraged fury. This morning Annie and I put her in her crib with the elefantes while we, you know, got dressed and scarfed a bit of food ourselves. She was silent, to all intents perfectly contented batting at the elephants, when all of a sudden there was a ferocious cry that demanded IMMEDIATE ATTENTION--RIGHT NOW!

Annie and I rushed in. Sophie saw us and dissolved into smiles. So--the outraged bellow, something new for her repertoire.

Return of the Swaddle

Last night was lovely.

We'd stopped swaddling her, because, well, I'm not sure why. Seemed like she was too big for it or something.

The last few nights she had become increasingly challenging. Binkie out, binkie in, binkie out--flail flail flail--vigorous complaining cry--rinse, repeat.

I especially loathe what Annie calls her 11:30p.m. stealth bottle, because, let me tell you, there's no way to be stealth about the fact that the breast milk has run out and I've just tried to palm the binkie off on her as if she wouldn't notice. She notices! She whimpers, she protests, she's not hungry, but would like me to know that the binkie is not cutting it and can't she just suck air? No she cannot. Sorry, child, but thus is life. I give her a finger. I hold her hand and stroke her cheek. Eventually, if I'm lucky, she will sigh and turn her head. Slowly, slowly, as if I were attempting to disarm a bomb, I'll disengage and sneak away, hoping she'll stay down.

Sometimes she does; the last few nights she hasn't.

So to the library, books will solve all: the inestimable Dr. Karp tells us we were fools--Fools!--ever to stop swaddling. We, thusly being chastened, swaddled and turned on the radio to stave off understimulation. This has the added benefit of not having to tiptoe around her.

And lo! It works.

Annie swears she slept deeper and more soundly. Annie and I certainly did. This morning we were all cheerful and babbly.