I Have Never Seen You Before In My Life

My sixth month old is already perfecting his flirtatious smile.


His current approach is to wait until you’ve broken eye contact with him, so that he can appear lost in some gainful activity such as banging a plastic red star block on its container. He fixates on the block, purposefully feeding the illusion that
he
isn’t
even
aware
you
are
still
in
the
room.


Then your tennis shoe slips across the carpet, causing a slight shuffling noise, and he casually turns his head, to investigate this sound. When he sees you, he ever so calculatedly tilts his head, locks eyes with you, and flashes a brilliant smile – as if you are the inventor of milk and this is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you or had the chance to thank you for your contributions.


Then, just like it came, the smile fades and he goes back to the red star block and the obliviousness that any other human is nearby.


Then I open a drawer to tuck away a sock and his charm kicks into gear once again, as if our last encounter never happened and this- THIS- is the first time he’s ever seen me and he’s not sure another human has ever brought him so much joy.


My husband, Chuck, sometimes catches Justus in these cycles and says, “That is your mom, silly. You’re not supposed to flirt with your mom.”


Justus then stares at his dad, hard core, like he has never smiled in his life and has no intentions of ever doing so. Not in the presence of someone who discourages him from interacting with this mythical creature called mom. When Chuck gives in, Justus turns back to me and smiles, discovering me for the first time all over again.


I’ve decided he is either a very happy baby or has suffered some sort of acute memory loss. In any case, I know his flirty grins are just rehearsals for some attractive eight month old cougar that he has his eye on. But I don’t mind standing in for the meantime.


Read the last post in the Feed Baby Often series, Ankle Champion of the World.