Mirror Mirror

Yesterday Kiernan turned ten months old. It has been three weeks since his heart surgery, so we took him to the pediatrician for his post-op checkup. (The doctor's visit described in the "Just a Staple" post was his follow-up with his cardiologist.) Aside from his weight being a bit low--it took awhile for his appetite to return after being in the hospital--he seems to be coming along swimmingly. The doctor was pleased to see him standing up and to hear that he is walking along holding on with only one of his hands. He was also pretty surprised to hear Kiernan say "Ma-ma" as we were preparing to leave the office.

This "Ma-ma" thing is tough to nail down though, or rather I should say the subject of his first word is tough to nail down. He's been saying variations of that word and of "da-da" for some time now, but because he just seems to say these things as part of his general babbling we haven't yet counted anything as his first word. Apparently he has to show some sort of discrimination or intent in order to get credit for saying all this stuff, which I think is kind of a drag. At some point he's gonna see the cool baby calendar Wendy keeps for him and he's gonna say, "Hey, wait a minute! You mean to say I've been talking all this time for nothing? What a waste."

So the visit went well, aside from the fact that we both cannot wait to find a different pediatrician (he's not a bad doctor, the fit just isn't right) we learned one valuable piece of information: we are raising quite a little narcissist. Given that neither his father nor his mother are people particularly concerned with their looks--ahem--I just don't understand how this could be happening. But it very clearly is.

Kiernan has been developing the ability to kiss over the last couple of months. This is another one of those things I never would have considered, going in, that you'd have to teach a kid. I mean higher level kissing, the way French people do, sure. I could see that as being something a person needs to learn, or at least develop as a skill. Thankfully, I won't be the one teaching Kiernan that; somebody his own age--hopefully--will be responsible for helping him muddle through that later on, say thirty years from now. But regular old kissing--kissing your mom goodnight or your European friends hello--is not innate as it turns out. I suppose that makes sense, I just never considered it.

So thanks to his mom he's learning to kiss. In point of fact, most of the stuff he's learned to do--the "eat" hand sign, clapping, waving--is thanks to his mom. She really is an excellent teacher, and even if her doctorate isn't officially in the kissing sciences, she's certainly done more than her fair share of field work. Her method in teaching the baby to kiss, then, has been to simply say the word, "Kiss!" every time she kisses him. That's it. (This is also, incidentally, the way she's taught me to become more organized. She just says, "List!" in the same bright and cheery tone as she leaves a sheet of honey-dos for me. It's helpful and, what can I say, a delight.)

The kissing thing is really pretty funny because while he got the basic concept quickly--basic concept being putting his mouth on somebody else's face, the logisitics are taking much longer--logistics being puckering his lips. Right now kissing for Kiernan is a very cute but strange open-mouthed affair. He just opens his mouth and plants it on your face in his slow and sweet baby way. We do have to teach him to pucker soon, though, because this slack-jawed thing is probably going to weird out any non-parents he tries it on.

At any rate, the examination table at his pediatrician's office is situated up against the wall, and there is a long narrow mirror--say a foot and a half high--mounted on the wall directly above it. While the doctor was making notes about the visit, Kiernan sat up on the table and noticed himself in the mirror. Seeing himself in the mirror generally makes him smile; it's also a good way to get him to forget why he is crying after he bumps his head. This time, however, he crawled across the table and planted a kiss on the mirror. And another. And another. It was hilarious. His doctor barely looked up from his notes, saying, "He's starting to figure out that it is him in the mirror; up until now he just saw it as a friendly face." So, great. My boy realizes the baby in the mirror is himself and he reacts by kissing himself over and over again. Good stuff.

Oh well, I suppose you have to learn to love yourself before you truly can love others.