The Squirt Has Soul

My apologies for being such a sloth of a blogger. It seems unlikely anyone could really care to read this, and then I get emails and phone calls that folks actually do . . . If anyone is really interested in reading my blather more regularly, I'm happy to oblige. And should that interest quickly turn to disgust, well then at least Quinn will have something to reflect upon as yet another way how not to be like me.

Thankfully, it's already in the cards, Quinn isn't the slacker her mom is.

Within a week the kid has completely kicked her puking tendencies; heck, she doesn't even gag any more. And now, she is gobbling down both formula and breastmilk, or whatever gets within reach of her lips (frequently, that would be my shoulder or neck while I'm trying to burp her).

At times, Quinn still has fits of screaming and yowling at what I can only presume to be a severe belly ache from eating too quickly, her gut being still a bit undeveloped, or from the ubiquitous lactose. Later this week she'll have a weigh-in; unless my biceps are deadbeats too, I suspect the reason they burn when holding her lately is because the girl has been doing some good working on her girth.

Now that Miss Quinn has obtained her brown belt in the the banal functions of swallowing and digesting, she has moved on to activities that may not be quite as attention-getting as projectile vomiting, but far more fun.

One morning last week, as soon as my face greeted hers, Quinn blessed me with the biggest grin. Now she is like a genie: she will bestow numerous smiles on anyone that grants her one first.

Perhaps more profound than these smiling sessions is that she also bellowed out her first real laugh.

According to Aristotle, a baby lacks a soul until she has her first laugh. By his measure, this "human ensouling" is to occur around the child's 40th day (after birth). Well, for Quinn, that day has long come and gone . . . Like the President, she just passed her 100th day -- on terra firma.

However, it was the 36th day since her due date that she had her first laugh; so if there's any validity to Aristotle's curious theory, at least this kid is on schedule (unlike her ever-tardy mom)!

This whole parenthood thing feels as miraculous as the human soul is mystical. A smile from this little being fills me with such delight, and certainly the first of many gifts of parenthood. It's an awe-some experience I can hardly wait to share with him when Jack is back, and with friends as they too pass through that threshold.

(And for those who decide not to become parents in some capacity, I'll just torture them with endless pictures of our kid, and subject them to the various smells and stories that will only reinforce their insight into why they were smarter than to play the breeding game.)

All the best from,
the Mystified Mama and Quinn with Official Quintessence