I talk all the time now. I talk about anything. I talk about cutting carrots, putting clothes in the dryer, and the contributions Charles and Ray Eames have made to design at large, and our living room in specific. I talk about Indian fiction in modern America, why coriander tastes like soap to certain palates, and how, in an effort to find them less repulsive, I’m toying with the idea of renaming diapers “tush clouds.”
Why am I doing this?
Because the American Medical Association and the U.S. Department of Education say it is a good idea. And because my son, Little Baby Z, is listening.
In fact, I told him as much the other day.
“Thing is, LBZ, most people--provided they’re not characters in Woody Allen movies or suffering from logorrhea--will not talk to you this much. But people who study babies say it’s a good idea to keep the conversation going because eventually something is going to click and you’ll start spitting out real words with intent. So I’m just trying keep the flow going, you dig?”
Just shy of his first birthday, LBZ had a brilliant retort in his native tongue, which, as close as I can figure, is equal parts babble, gurgle, and Hebrew. I’d like to believe he was saying "Yeah, Ma, I get it, and don’t worry—you’re not becoming a walking sideshow," or even "I prefer Art Deco to Mid-Century Modern," but I think it was probably closer to “You need to change my tush cloud."
Am I going nuts? Is this really a good idea? Did you talk to your kids when they were infants? Did it make either of you crazy in the long haul?
