Don’t let babies fool you. Even before they can speak real words, they’re little geniuses who are capable of sending us to prison with their expert testimonies.
Turning a sharp left into my garage, maybe a little too fast — maybe not, I hit my front right bumper on the door frame. My prophet-know-it-all husband had predicted I would someday do this since I liked to swing the car in a little “too fast.” He was just jealous I was a better driver.
With tiny leanings for the dramatic, I squealed and said something along the lines of, “Oh, gracious, this is terrible!” “Who moved the garage door?”
I unstrapped my son from his car seat and stood him on the step going into the kitchen, then ran inside and got a wet towel. I leaped over the adorable boy, who remained frozen and watched with big eyes as I fussed and fumed, and danced around and rubbed the scratch with all my might, until finally, “Thank you God!” What I thought was a deep gash, proved to be only a smudge, and with great buffing effort, disappeared completely. Bob would never know, and all was well in the world.
Little Harrison took his afternoon nap, which to this day remains one of his great talents, and I went about my tasks. When my babe awoke, he played with pots and pans on the floor while I started dinner. Bob came home and said, “there’s my boy!” and scooped the little chunk up in his arms.
Harrison squirmed to get down and began making caveman/baby-talk while grabbing his Daddy’s hand and pulling. Bob asked, “Do you want me to go somewhere with you?” “Uh-huh.” Wobbling back and forth and tugging Bob towards the garage, Bob finally got the message to open the door. Still too small to go down the step without first leaning over to hold the ground with his hands, Harrison finally made his way to the car where he patted the front bumper with one hand and with the other, pointed his chubby finger at me, and with toddler indignation and the force of a midget Perry Mason, said, “Mama!”
“What’s this? Did mommy hit the car on the garage door?” Shaking his red head, my baby proudly smiled and confirmed, “Uh-huh!”
That little snitch! Bob was dying laughing and Harrison was very proud of himself. I told that kid I would get him back someday, even if it took years. And guess what? When he was 16 years old and backed his truck into a brick wall, I reminded him of what he had done years before, as I skipped inside to tell his father.
Babies are far more capable of understanding and learning than we realize. This is why we need to remember to provide quality experiences of play and language development even before they are able to fully communicate with us.
Good music, good conversation, and no blinky-stinky TV or computer screens — especially during meals. These little people are on to us. They are watching and they are learning, and I was taught, they also love cars and are very loyal to their daddies.
This story first appeared on AL.com