One of the big things I love about kids is trying to relate and communicate with them, because I think it’s simply fascinating to see the little gears grind in their heads as they try to figure things out. I spent a lot of time in college studying artificial intelligence and the complexities of trying to simulate a human brain within a computational framework and there is nothing straightforward about it; the fact that kids have it built-in is nothing less than amazing.
Sometimes they amuse you: Every time I see our friends’ child, Tam, I just love to see what he has learned since we saw each other last and to see what he’ll imitate or learn from me this time. Of course, this usually results in me teaching him something useful like sticking his finger up his nose or making crazy faces while his parents roll their eyes, but hey — what are friends’ kids for, anyway? I know, I know — payback’s a bitch. But now when he sees me, he gets a big-ass grin on his face, so I am hopefully a bright clown in his life, and it lights me up every time.
Sometimes they fascinate you: I fondly remember a ride home from the Mall of America with our friend Jen’s daughter, Kaiya, and talking with her about all manner of things in a conversation that was far more mature than her age. I find that kids respond to the level you talk to them at — treat them like mini adults instead of snotty-nosed children and they respond that way, trust and respect breeding the same. A sharp girl and an intriguing ride home getting to know her and hear her thoughts on things.
And sometimes…they just stun you wordless.
Last night as his mummy crawled around in the baby room closet, otherwise known as the location that we stuff all the crap we can’t fit anywhere else, I was holding Keston and talking to him as he was having a rare moment of wakefulness, looking around and checking things out. I was playing with his little hands and fingers when suddenly he tightly grabbed my much larger fingers in both of his tiny hands and looked at me with eyes deeper than the depths of the universe — and completely cut through me. And he just stared at me.
Can souls reach out and touch each other?
I was floored — I didn’t know what to say to him. After a minute, I just said, “It’s ok. We’re so happy that we can be your parents and you came to stay with us. We’ll take good care of you, I promise.” After a minute he sighed and let go and went on looking around and wiggling and doing other baby things.
I don’t know. It could have been just babies doing what babies do, but maybe it wasn’t. Does it matter?
A note to the readership: I don’t plan on this blog becoming a “daddy blog” like so many out there, and I’ll keep doing philosophical/religious and rants from time to time, but you’ll no doubt see me musing more about my child from time to time. I promise, I’ll keep it to a dull roar and avoid stories about poopy.
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