Morning with Lucy

At around 6:30, 7 a.m., I was dragged out of sleep by gurgling cooing sounds from the next room. I thought I heard Jean getting Lucy, so I went back to sleep. Maybe 15 minutes later, the constant morning chatter by the almost 4 month old woke me up again. I got up and walked into the nursery. There Lucy lay, in all her glory, in her crib. She wore onesie pajamas (the nights have been chilly) with little yellow ducks all over them. Her eyes were wide open. She had her legs in the air and her fat hands were clutching her own feet. She was DEEP in conversation with herself. She’s figuring it out now. You take a deep breath, get the air going in your lungs, and exhale, making sounds. Good job, Lucy. Yes, this is what we humans do. We make sounds like that. She babbled away, fascinated by her own feet in her hands. I stood there with her for a long time, and we had a nice chat. Lucy would make eye contact, briefly, checking in with me, before she continued on with her monologue. I rubbed her belly and she appeared to tell me she liked that. Sometimes I would catch a small dimple appearing in her right cheek, and her eyes would smile. A miracle. A baby understanding pleasure, joy, and being happy to be awake and loving to have a conversation. She was completely content. No fussing. Just chatter. The rest of the house was silent. I finally reached into the crib and picked her up. Lucy loves to look over her right shoulder. Looking over the left shoulder is really not interesting to her, even if what is more interesting is over THERE. So you kind of have to maneuver yourself around, so Lucy can look over the shoulder SHE prefers. I sat with her in the rocking chair. Lucy was chewing away on her pacifier, staring around her, whipping her head around so she could look over her RIGHT shoulder. Because why on earth would ANYONE want to look over their LEFT shoulder? How boring is that? I sang her some songs (Bob Gibson, if you must know – “This Train is Bound for Glory”) and her whole body went still, her eyes going inward and quiet, as she listened. It was hysterical. Like; Oh, something different is happening now … I must pay attention with my WHOLE BODY. Her wrists are so fat that it is difficult to look at them without eating them up. Here is a photo of Lucy’s arm, taken by her father.

Sometimes I held her so she was standing up on my thighs. She seems to enjoy doing deep knee-bends, making some huge chattering comment as she lifts herself up. She’s like a body-builder that way. Doing it all on the exhale. She seems so little, yet at the same time, I remember her when she was born, and I am amazed at how big she is now. Cashel spent a lot of time with Lucy this summer, his first cousin, and he said to his mother when he came home, “I under-estimated the cuteness of Lucy.” Don’t we all. I moved us into the living room and we lay on the couch together. Lucy liked to look around, and sometimes the pacifier got in the way of some big philosophical statement she was yearning to make, so I would take the pacifier out, and suddenly she would pour forth her theories on life. I agreed with all the points she made. She doesn’t really like to sit on my lap staring out, because it seems like it is too much like being a masthead on a ship – hovering out on the brink of an abyss. Much better to sit on one thigh, facing sideways, so that you can look up at the person who is holding you, and speak, if you feel like speaking. Or just check her out. Hm. Who is this nice lady? But now I have to stare over my right shoulder, because obviously the most important things are happening over THERE. Of course they are. Who am I to dissuade you from that viewpoint?

Her head smells so good.

I enjoyed our conversation, Lucy. I can’t wait to see what you say next.