All The Books will tell you that a 1-month-old Human child has no concept of object permanence. The thing about looking at that from an adult's point of view is that I have no concept of what it's like to have no concept of object permanence. My grown-up mind is blown by this concept that I sometimes don't exist.
(This is about to get pretty existential and deep. You might want to get some nachos or something.)
Last Wednesday, Dan and I left Leah with a baby-sitter so that we could go to an Infant CPR class. We were gone for a couple of hours, and when we returned, that baby looked at me as though she was laying eyes on the Great Maker herownself. This did wonderful things for my Momfidence, first of all, because I figured if she despised me, I would have gotten a look that said, "What are you doing back?" instead of, "OMFG MOMMY-THING EXISTS AGAIN!!!1!!"
I took her in my arms and smooched her little face and when I pulled back and did that thing that parents do - "Hi Leah! Hi! Hi!"* - she was just staring at me with huge blue eyes, and it succeeded in melting me into a Mommy-goo pile that got gooier at the center for every second she did not look away.
Clearly I had just performed the most awesome magic trick her little mind had ever seen: I ceased to exist, only to reappear again at a later time, continuing on with life as though nothing had changed. But is my two-hour David Copperfield impression enough time for her to forget that I am a thing?
And then I wondered, is the disappearance of some things more concerning to her mind than the disappearance of other things, or do we all rank pretty much the same on the "out of sight, out of mind" scale? If her Super-Favorite Frog Toy was lost (or stashed under the couch by the cat) and found again several hours later, would she reconnect with it on the same level as she does with Dan or I when we "disappear"? What is her little mind's capacity to remember things that she has less contact with?
I will have to do some experiments.
The other cool thing that happened this week is that she has learned to track objects with her eyes when they move. Granted, this seems to be limited to brightly colored objects that make rattle sounds and are placed directly in her line of sight no more than a foot from her face and only move left to right, but I hold out hope that she will someday track my movements, too, so that she'll follow me into... say, the kitchen. And fetch me a beer.
Someday, baby bird. Someday.
*It doesn't matter how extensive my vocabulary used to be. I find that even on days where I am being a Good Mom and Promoting Language Development by narrating my day to my daughter, I actually use very few big words. This is part of why I crave contact with grown-ups.
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