Fortunately for new parents, every single bit of advice in books, magazines and online is consistent. No ambiguity, contradiction or suspicion of “completely making it up just because it worked for my baby” exists whatsoever.
But the books we’ve read said little about babies flapping about like a baby bird. Our little one spent about two months frantically trying to fly but finally seems to have given up on the idea that her arms are wings and can now manoeuvre them a little more gently (with the occasional flap being used to denote irritation). Her hands are tiny but fortunately so is her mouth otherwise the occasions on which she manages to get one of them in so far it triggers the gag reflex would be more common. And, quite frankly, she doesn’t need an excuse to be even more sick.
We had a “no dummy” (pacifier, Americans, like a George Bush/Tony Blair camp singalong) policy when she was born, and we persevered for nearly 36 hours before relenting. It’s 50/50 though, either working instantly or causing further outrage.
According to “Baby Whisperers” and the like, you can clearly discern different types of baby cries. All true – we’ve learned the one that goes “WAH!” approximately 3 to 4 hours after she’s last been fed which we understand to denote “Feed me”. There’s the deceptively similar one that goes “WAH!” during or after feeding which we interpret as “Wind me”. We definitely know the one that goes “WAH!” (yes, exactly the same cry) accompanied by the faint smell of fetid cheese rotten egg sandwich spread, which we take to mean “Change me!” There’s another cry that goes “WAH!” if we’ve left her on the activity gym for long enough for us to cook, but not eat, a meal which signifies “Cuddle me.” There’s the “WAH!” accompanied by heavy eyelids which means “Put me to bed”.
And the one that goes “WAH!”, which means go through all of the above in turn several times before walking around the house gently bouncing her up and down in an exaggerated John Cleese style whilst making up songs about sleep: “Walking round the house with the baby, wondering when she will go to sleep. Walking round the house with the baby, wide awake but should be counting #£&@#&£ sheep.” (Replace word before “sheep” with whatever springs to mind at 4.46am).
Over the last month she’s discovered she can make additional noises other than “WAH!”. This is lovely, cute and many other heartwarming adjectives. However, when done at 4.46am, attempting to join in with the birds’ dawn chorus, it’s none of the those.
As responsible, modern parents, we’ve been trying to avoid – wherever possible –
gender stereotyping, but we’ve realised that dressing her in pink helps random pensioners in supermarkets identify the near bald-headed baby as a girl. Dress her in white or red and the English language has yet to draw up a polite version of “What sex is it?” (Even the less intrusive sounding “Is it a boy or a girl?” still carries an air of embarrassment for the inquisitor).
Better than “With all that flapping, is it a boy, girl or baby bird?” I suppose.
Some Pilot You Are 