Cian was eating. He’s just woken from his morning nap, and I was breastfeeding him, scrolling through something on my phone (US Weekly? Facebook? Who knows, but it was compelling). I feel guilty when I do this, not just because I’m trying and miserably failing in my attempt to cut the umbilical phone cord, as it were, but also because all of the parenting websites (which I read, on my phone, probably while nursing) tell me that all I should be doing while my baby feeds is stroking the little stubby tufts of hair on his head and gazing at him adoringly. Never mind that when you nurse a kid a half-dozen times a day there’s only so much hair tuft-adoring you can do. It’s not like there’s a lot of it to adore anyway, you know? So never mind that. I figured babies don’t mind not being stared at while they’re not paying attention because babies are usually awesome. And probably not vain.
But I was sitting on the bed this time. It was quiet, and the girls were playing together in the living room. I was feeding Cian, scrolling through my phone, when all of a sudden, he broke off the latch and sat up in my arms until his face was right in front of mine. Startled, I looked down (adoringly, yes). He broke into a huge, gummy smile, his bright eyes wide, and stared right into mine for about three full seconds. Then he relaxed and went back to eating.
I put down my phone. Those little tufts of hair suddenly had my attention.
I told you babies are awesome.