Smiley Joe

When Linus was a couple of weeks old, I started to worry that he didn't like me. Before they start smiling it's all business with babies. They're either sleeping, or rooting around for food, crying if they don't find it. They'll spend some time looking at you, but it's a look like, "What the...? Who..? Who are you?" I knew that babies don't start smiling until about 6 weeks. I knew it in my brain, but in my heart I was becoming sure that Linus was developing a deep dislike for me. He'd stare at me like he was very disappointed to discover that I'm his mother. Then, when 6 weeks came and he still wasn't smiling, I was convinced. He just didn't like me. Oh, I'd make light of it and laughingly joke with everyone about it, but it chilled me to the bone. I'd kitchy-coo and baby-talk until I developed a blister, but he'd just stare at me deadpan, "Just give me the booby, lady." I'd think to myself, "Well, ok. Sometimes you just don't like someone. Nobody's fault. Doesn't mean you can't work with 'em. I've had plenty of coworkers I didn't like. No big deal, right? Sure. It'll be fine."

And, it's not like it was unrequited love at this point. I wasn't too sure about him either. Oh, I was down with the care-giving, his every whim was my command, no question about that, but I wasn't all google-boogle yet. It wasn't so much of a torch as a match that I was carrying for him at this point. But I did want him to like me, like really bad. I was afraid that if he didn't like me I'd pull a Reverse Grinch and my heart would shrink and harden, and I'd shrink and harden, until I looked like Nancy Reagan. Even if we didn't like each other, I didn't want Nancy Reagan raising my son. I didn't want the grape of new motherhood to become the raisin of indifferent parenting.

But then at 7 weeks he started smiling. Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, people! That is really when I started to fall in love, you know? Who wouldn't?! Every time he caught sight of me, his face would light up. In truth, every time he caught sight of anybody his face would light up. It's like once he worked out this smiling business, he wasn't looking back. People would often comment that he was the smiling-est baby they'd ever met, and I believe it because he smiled all the time. And it's not like this lack of specificity in any way dampened the warm feelings that his smile engendered in me. It's baby magic. Think about it - when a baby looks at you and smiles hugely, don't you feel extra special? Like you and that baby have an unspoken connection? Like that baby's seen through your gruff exterior and into your gooey center? Yeah. Doesn't matter if you've never seen that baby before in your life, you are now BFF.

It's such a good strategy to get us to take care of their floppy selves.