Nothing stays constant but the changing

While we were in Abu Dhabi a couple of weeks back, Sonny's uncle swung the little fella up and onto his shoulders, expecting to reap a squeal of delight. He heard only a wail of terror as Sonny - unfamiliar with the stunt - clambered desperately to escape the unwanted boosting.

Funny, the change a couple of weeks can bring. Yesterday, Pa yanked the little fella skyward again, depositing him so he could pull on his father's ears if he had a mind to. This time, there was no shriek of fear. There wasn't any explosion of excitement either; Sonny simply surveyed the newly-adjusted environs calmly, a confident smile on his face (or so it seemed to Pa, upon trotting up a flight of stairs at a hotel so as to access a large mirror). He might have done this a thousand times, going by his relaxed demeanour.

It just goes to show the truth of the comment often made by sundry experienced parents, including Pa's mother, that a young child cycles through a dizzying succession of changing dominant moods, characteristic behaviours and even general facial appearances: Sonny, on that last point, can apparently look more or less like one parent, then the other, with each passing week. The almost-10-month-old, we must conclude, has no set "personality", whatever we may like to believe. He goes from being a "happy, generally placid thing" at two months to a "grumpy, demanding monster" at four to a "jealous, withdrawn creature" at six. Scanning through this disordered series of posts, we are struck by how often our pronouncements about Sonny's behaviour, preferences or quirks are effectively negated sometimes a few days later as the wheel of fortune turns.

It could be argued, of course, that even adults are immune from this phenomenon; that our character continues to evolve throughout our lives. Naturally, the swings are typically less violent and less frequent - and the factors that bring about alternation need to be much more pronounced. This would contrast with the apparently random switches seen in toddlers, which can leave us reaching for empty generalisations or cliches like "well, that's just how it is", or "growing up is like that" by way of (non-) explanation.

At the end of the day, however, Mum and Pa must somehow pretend that the set of their child's characteristics is fixed, if they are to ever go about their parental duties. How could we plan meals or structure our days if we foreground the fact that Sonny's tolerance of different foods, or his sleep times, vary like the wind direction in autumn? Could we ever buy a toy or plan activities if we continued to remind ourselves that his preferences might change in a twinkling? No, we have to stay nimble and perpetuate this great myth of there being something called "what Sonny is like" - even though if we wanted to be exact, we should add to that descriptor the words "... at the moment", thereby upending every tenuous hold on control.

Hey, it keeps things interesting, right?

Hidden, high-scoring gems

Earlier today, Pa was scuttling along near our home after dropping Sonny off at the infant care centre, trying to get in his 15 minutes of exercise (regular readers will note that this hopeful theme will emerge from time to time before fading from view). There's a basketball court along the route, so Pa paused long enough to see what was going on there.

A middle-aged man and a woman - almost certainly husband and wife - were shooting hoops, clad in el-cheapo sneakers and worn attire. They wouldn't have warranted a second look if encountered anywhere, whether in the bus, at the market or in town. But as Pa looked on in mounting amazement, the duo put together a stunning basketball exhibition: They took turns to score from all angles, from different distances and using everything from high lobs to sky hooks and classical-release shots. It was all done at an unhurried pace: These folks weren't doing much more than getting in a bit of physical exertion, from the looks of things - even if the way they were scoring without pause was enough to disrupt Pa's progress and keep him entranced for several minutes.

We haven't a clue, of course, who these people were. But they were certainly hidden away in a quiet residential area of Singapore, surrounded by blocks upon blocks of modest apartments. The encounter brought home the truth that you never know when you are going to stumble upon something of interest, so long as we remain aware of what's going on about us and don't become totally enwrapped in our own private musings.

All of that, of course, ought not be forgotten as we shepherd Sonny - less than a fortnight away from completing his tenth month with us - along his own exploration of the world around him. For now, his wonder and curiosity at everything he comes across is pretty much a salient characteristic. Nothing is so insignificant as to not warrant an inspection; a quiet nook, once spotted, simply cannot be left alone until there has been a crawled-over expedition to scout for surprise treasures. But as the years pile up, there is a danger that we lose that investigative edge; our awareness is dulled as experience silts up a "done-this, seen-that" weariness that can leave us to trudge through life expecting nothing fresh to peek out at us.

That would be a pity. If Sonny shows signs of flagging in that manner, we'll need to be sharp enough to pick it up and attempt some exhortatory reinvigoration. But that probably won't be a problem for some time yet: Curbing excessive curiosity seems more the current worry. Still, Pa hopes he'll see more basketball action as he continues his modest exercise routine, even if he isn't himself inspired to try and sink any baskets. Maybe he'll strike up a conversation some time with that wonder couple: They could be onetime hoops legends who have fallen on hard times and are now relegated to obscurity, their once shining talent now glistening only occasionally at our neighbourhood hard court. Or they could be diamonds-in-the-rough with outstanding ability but no interest in shaping their gift in the direction of fame or money.

It might turn out to be a gem of a conversation - like the many that always surround us, waiting for us to notice them.

'Evil Crasher' makes its debut

Can children scheme to inflict pain on their parents, and make sure they get away with it?

Such dark musings are in the wind after Sonny came up with what Pa is calling the 'Evil Crasher' game earlier today. The little fella first waits until a parent is lying on the floor. Then he'll toddle along and, using the unsuspecting adult as a support, lever himself into a standing position. Releasing his arms, he rears up dramatically, then collapses onto his victim's stomach/ groin/other sensitive part of the anatomy. The exercise is then repeated.

Naturally, there's a built-in justification for this cruel game: The little fella is "learning to stand upright and walk". The adult would feel rather guilty about disrupting this essential process - and ends up gritting his teeth and absorbing the punishing blows. However, it's just as likely, or so Pa suspects, that the little fella - unhappy at the slow delivery of food, or lack of slavish attention or some such imagined slight - is simply getting a bit of his own back.

'Evil Crasher' actually features a further embedded excuse: It can pass for a "bonding experience" between parent and child. This, in fact, had been Mum's initial reaction ("How's the bonding going?", she had blithely asked Pa as his body was slammed again and again). After all, the little fella is smiling beatifically throughout and exhibits utter absorption in the activity, in which the parent is an integral part. And how heavy can a not-quite-10 month-old be anyway, an unsympathetic observer might respond to Pa's whimpers? (To which the answer, apparently, is "pretty darn heavy").

Anyway, Sonny spent no more than 10 minutes perfecting his technique with Evil Crasher. Enough for the first day, he probably figured. He had quickly worked out how to stand as upright as possible, so there would be maximal distance between himself and the target (Pa) and so maximal acceleration. He also learned how to vary his arm position at point of impact, presumably to keep Pa guessing and to hammer at different pain points each time. All of which dredges up yet further excuses for his wicked conduct: He is simply "learning to assess and improve his control of his body", his lawyer might be able to say, a well as "getting a good work-out". With so many babies overweight these days, who would deny Sonny his chance to sweat away some calories playing bouncy-bounce?

He can even learn his numbers the next day, with a round of "Count the bruises" with Pa. How charming!

Staying consistent from the start

Some people are inconsistent in how they treat their children, cycling through disciplinarian, cosseting, bribing, despairing and other modes. With Sonny in his tenth month and increasingly forging a (at times frustrating) personality of his own, we hope in our dealings with him to set a course - and then stick to it.

There'll be our baby-carrier experience to remind us to be constant.

At the moment, Mum is preparing to junk our current model in favour of an alternative we had tried out in Abu Dhabi (from which we have just returned). The newly-favoured 'Ergo' carrier, which Pa's sister-in-law had championed, provides a more secure ride for the little fella, is easier on the back of the adult and is less of a bother to buckle up boot.

The thing is, we already own four other carriers of various descriptions and types, some gifts and others purchased. Each proved to have its own fatal flaws, from an excessive number of clasps or straps to undue strain being placed on some body part or the other of the carrying parent. Mum is trying to sell some off some of the discards on the Internet, to prevent our little flat from taking on the appearance of a showroom.

Of course, with such an item, cycling through an ever-changing selection of products is unlikely to have any deleterious effects on Sonny. It's hard to see him suffering any psychic shock, for instance, or developing "Carrier Uncertainty Syndrome". Yet if we were to prove as change-prone when it comes to setting ground rules for the little fella, things could get pretty problematic. It is widely accepted that parents should provide an environment that is settled and secure, and this extends to the do's and don'ts that will shape the child's earliest acquisition of habits and dispositions. Constant variation, and the jumble of mixed signals that it will engender, may disrupt the laying-down of this essential foundation.

Of course, we're not advocating that parents stubbornly stick, come what may, to a regulatory regime that they have come to consider flawed. Yet it may be that, broadly speaking, the fact that a rule has been laid down is a point in favour of retaining it, or at least of not modifying it too soon (If 9pm is bedtime, then it shouldn't be 10pm the next week, and 8.45pm the week after, even if there may be no overwhelming reason why any of these times should be independently preferred over any other). We wouldn't want Sonny to conclude that what his parents' decrees can be easily revised, especially with a few well-timed tantrums.

Some folks would argue that children aren't such dark plotters as all that. But the little devils are certainly shrewd enough to begin to try to get their own way from a very early age (just as Sonny already knows who to appeal first if he wants something, and who is more likely to be extra-accommodating). And as the the child grows older and the sorts of issues he will encounter become increasingly complex, the parents certainly will not want to be viewed as indecisive and "unreliable".

Who would want to carry that sort of label?

As difficult as A, B, C

The little fella attained a dubious high water mark a couple of days ago: He's reached what you might call 'Parrot Status'.

Without the slightest inkling as to the meaning of what he is uttering, he is now able to mouth (that is, parrot) the first two letters of the alphabet. At nine months and change, this isn't a particularly stunning achievement, but it certainly made for some excitement in our little household.

"A", Sonny had suddenly mumbled as Pa was running through the alphabet song and jabbing at the hand-made chart that we have on our wall. Then, "A" again. He said it fairly well too, though his pronunciation would vary over the next couple of days, at times teetering on the edge of "Air". Shortly thereafter, with a bit of egging-on, he progressed to "B", though pronounced with a strange whistling sound through his two teeth, something closer to "Bhhee".

We therefore now have the odd situation of a baby who can't even say "Mum" or "Pa" (despite a false alarm, as described in an earlier post; click here to read it) yet will suddenly go into a bizarre run of "A"s and "B"s. Just take this morning:

Pa: Good morning, Sonny. Ready to go to the infant care centre yet?
Sonny: A. B. A. A.
Pa: It's me, Pa. That's right... Paaaa. Can you say 'Pa'?
Sonny: A. B. A. B.
Pa: Er, that's very clever, Sonny. But you ought to start with your parents first, you know. What about 'Mum'? Say 'Mum', Sonny...
Sonny: A. B. A. A. A.
Pa (tries to go with the flow): All right, never mind all that. Can you say, 'C'? Come on, let's move on...
Sonny: A. A. B. B. A.
Pa: Stop it! It's driving me crazy!
Sonny: A? B? A. B. A.

Of course, if we were to tell a visitor about Sonny's newly-acquired skill, then trot the little rascal out for a demonstration, he will immediately clam up and just smile and paw away innocently. He could be getting a good laugh over our discomfiture at these moments, so maybe we'll just wait for him to learn the rest of the alphabet before we inform anyone else.

Mustn't fall into the little fella's trap too many times, must we?