Baby Shakespeare
So I signed up for Nursery 2 this year (the one-year-olds in Children's Ministry at church) because Nora belongs to that class. Technically. I'm beginning to have my doubts. During the first week of my tenure I was pulled to go serve in an overstuffed Toddlers classroom (and somebody accidentally yanked the fire alarm---boy was that exciting!), so I only got to spend about 10 minutes with her. This week I wasn't pulled, but when Jess appeared in the doorway with the Lodestar of Our Lives in her arms, it was only to inform me that she fears Nora is getting sick, so my hopes were crushed again.
However, I'm kind of glad they were, because not having Nora there made me focus on getting to know some of the other babies. We had the best class in the world---five adults and seven very well-behaved babies, none of whom cried exorbitantly and all of whom can crawl, make noises, and look adorable. Happiness. :-)
I had fun discussing motherhood with a young mom who was serving, and various education tracks with an older mom who was serving, and ways of solving the energy crisis with a mechanical engineer (husband of the young mom) who was serving, and it was all very pleasant. Then one of the little boys began to kick up a fuss about something, and I went to calm him down, and whoops!---lost my heart.
Again.
I am always falling in love with something. This is a case in point. The baby's name is Jacob and he's medium adorable and has big blue eyes. What absolutely captured me, however, was that he likes to play "Beep" and will grin at a person who is quoting Shakespeare to him.
"Beep" is a noble game of ancient lineage. I beeped his nose in every imaginable tone, beginning with Road Runner beeps and moving on from there. He grinned and beeped back. We had quite an orgy of beeping. Then he tried to climb me (we were seated in a rocking chair) and I let that go on for a little while because babies that age like to do that sort of thing. Then I pulled him off my head and sat him in my lap again and did "Trot Trot to Boston" (nota bene: though his grasp of "Beep" is excellent, he seemed totally nonplussed as to the "we all fall in" aspect of "Trot Trot").
I don't know who started it (let's say he did), but the next thing I knew I was talking nonsense to him the way one does to babies, and all my nonsense came out as random quotes from literature, mostly from Shakespeare. I explained to him very seriously that man is a giddy thing, and we talked about "had we but world enough and time enough" (which is not Shakespeare, but is a poet) and so forth.
Whenever he began to cry (he was a little fussy, I think from being tired or hungry or both, because it certainly wasn't his diaper), I made up or reinstated songs to calm him. In fact, I couldn't seem to stop singing to him. I tried putting him down once or twice, but he very definitely wanted to be held, and to climb me as if I were Mt. Everest, and to be beeped and talked to and sung to. Well, all that I could do. :-)
At last he reached the end of his patience, near the end of the sermon, and became really fussy. Then I turned to Old Faithful, the sink. It might surprise you, dear reader, to discover what a soothing influence running water has on children. He stopped crying immediately and when his mother arrived we were happily splashing. So that was all right Best Beloved Don't You See?
It was exquisitely restful, which is a good thing particularly today because I was up until 2 AM through no fault of work (I foolishly had a cup of coffee and went to see a RedSox game that went until 1:45 AM). Fortunately, I am now well trained to survive on minimal sleep, so staying awake through church was no problem. Then of course somebody had the bright idea of climbing Sugarloaf this afternoon, and I'm pretty sure we picked the steepest trail there is (practically vertical, but no steps: just rocks and slippery dust). Nevertheless, we triumphed, and came out on top and ran into all sorts of people we know and came down again and it was nice.
And that's all! Tune in next week to hear more happy posts from Masterbaby Theater and Special Sunday Report.
However, I'm kind of glad they were, because not having Nora there made me focus on getting to know some of the other babies. We had the best class in the world---five adults and seven very well-behaved babies, none of whom cried exorbitantly and all of whom can crawl, make noises, and look adorable. Happiness. :-)
I had fun discussing motherhood with a young mom who was serving, and various education tracks with an older mom who was serving, and ways of solving the energy crisis with a mechanical engineer (husband of the young mom) who was serving, and it was all very pleasant. Then one of the little boys began to kick up a fuss about something, and I went to calm him down, and whoops!---lost my heart.
Again.
I am always falling in love with something. This is a case in point. The baby's name is Jacob and he's medium adorable and has big blue eyes. What absolutely captured me, however, was that he likes to play "Beep" and will grin at a person who is quoting Shakespeare to him.
"Beep" is a noble game of ancient lineage. I beeped his nose in every imaginable tone, beginning with Road Runner beeps and moving on from there. He grinned and beeped back. We had quite an orgy of beeping. Then he tried to climb me (we were seated in a rocking chair) and I let that go on for a little while because babies that age like to do that sort of thing. Then I pulled him off my head and sat him in my lap again and did "Trot Trot to Boston" (nota bene: though his grasp of "Beep" is excellent, he seemed totally nonplussed as to the "we all fall in" aspect of "Trot Trot").
I don't know who started it (let's say he did), but the next thing I knew I was talking nonsense to him the way one does to babies, and all my nonsense came out as random quotes from literature, mostly from Shakespeare. I explained to him very seriously that man is a giddy thing, and we talked about "had we but world enough and time enough" (which is not Shakespeare, but is a poet) and so forth.
Whenever he began to cry (he was a little fussy, I think from being tired or hungry or both, because it certainly wasn't his diaper), I made up or reinstated songs to calm him. In fact, I couldn't seem to stop singing to him. I tried putting him down once or twice, but he very definitely wanted to be held, and to climb me as if I were Mt. Everest, and to be beeped and talked to and sung to. Well, all that I could do. :-)
At last he reached the end of his patience, near the end of the sermon, and became really fussy. Then I turned to Old Faithful, the sink. It might surprise you, dear reader, to discover what a soothing influence running water has on children. He stopped crying immediately and when his mother arrived we were happily splashing. So that was all right Best Beloved Don't You See?
It was exquisitely restful, which is a good thing particularly today because I was up until 2 AM through no fault of work (I foolishly had a cup of coffee and went to see a RedSox game that went until 1:45 AM). Fortunately, I am now well trained to survive on minimal sleep, so staying awake through church was no problem. Then of course somebody had the bright idea of climbing Sugarloaf this afternoon, and I'm pretty sure we picked the steepest trail there is (practically vertical, but no steps: just rocks and slippery dust). Nevertheless, we triumphed, and came out on top and ran into all sorts of people we know and came down again and it was nice.
And that's all! Tune in next week to hear more happy posts from Masterbaby Theater and Special Sunday Report.
posted by Praelucor at 8:09 PM
1 Comments:
Oh, do! I love happy posts. Of course, I love all of them nearly...
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