In the last couple of weeks Clover has really started to become a small person. Every time I interact with eir, and that happens every 1 to 5 minutes, I am amazed by the new person before me.
Little new born babies are great, and induce all the right brain chemicals to make humans want to protect and look at them. However, they can be pretty boring. You can poke at their cheeks, and check their toes again, but the interaction is lacking.
Now, however, we are getting results. Clover looks around, and makes eye contact on eir own. When I hear Clover cry, I know that it is Clover crying, not just because that particular sonic burst is attuned to my brain, but also because I can see it in eir body language, the way eir head wobbles, the ducky upper-lip, the clenched fists and eyes shrink-wrapped in tears. It is, without doubt, the instance called Clover.
Once I get past that observation, I am shocked to think that Clover didn’t exist a couple of months ago. I mean, I already think it is odd that we count age from the moment that a babby externalizes. This isn’t a political or religious statement, but Clover started living for me when e kicked me through Susan’s belly.
However, now that we’ve just passed the six week mark, I think I will subtract a month, rather than add a few, to each person’s age.
This isn’t a very apt metaphor, but I kinda feel like new-borns are like putty. They are still being molded and baked. When they are born, their outsides have gotten hard enough to take out of the oven, but their insides (both guts and neural connections) aren’t quite “done” yet.
Okay, that was a horrible metaphor, but I am leaving it in.
At any rate, I remember hanging out with Clover as e laid on our bed, gazing up at the lights above. I said something and e looked straight at me. Of course I started crying. I feel it was the first time I got to meet the first continual instance of Clover.
It isn’t any less surprising on a daily basis. It is apparent that Clover has something to say, so I am looking forward to when we can use words, for all the hilarity and misunderstanding that will cause. Maybe then I can start dictating Clover’s thoughts on growing up. 