Clio is a silly baby. This is not just my opinion; it's a confirmed medical fact. At the girls' early doctor visits, our pediatrician would ask how we'd characterize each of the babies. With Clio, the first word that always came to our minds was "silly." Even when she was just a couple of weeks old. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is. Maybe it's her expressions, maybe her gestures (keeping her right arm extended out straight in front of her in a pose I call "muppet arm" is her latest), or maybe it's the panoply of very loud, silly sounds she's always made. She just kinda makes you want to laugh. The pediatrician gave us a polite smile the first time we told her this. She was probably thinking, "here are two people who are very sleep-deprived and, subsequently, deranged." But after examining Clio for a few minutes she turned to us and said, "You're right. This baby is silly."
As befitting a silly baby, Clio has a great laugh, and once she gets on a laughing jag, there's no stopping her. Once I made her laugh for a full ten minutes just by repeatedly poking her in the belly and saying "Lulu!" She thought that was freakin' hysterical. (See? Silly.) The best thing, however, is when she combines laughing with her favorite activity: bouncing. I present exhibit A, the bouncing video. (In which yours truly also bounces and acts silly.)
We might have conditioned her to this whole bouncing thing. When she was a newborn she was constantly falling asleep while nursing, and one of our techniques for trying to wake her up was to hold her upright and bounce her on our laps while singing a song of our own creation called "bouncing baby," sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques." ("Bouncing baby, bouncing baby, how are you? How are you? Who's a bouncing baby? You're a bouncing baby, Clio Moock. Clio Moock." Brilliant, isn't it? If you recall, the mister is a professional musician, after all.) We also found that bouncing helped soothe her when she cried, so in the early days, 2 a.m. often found one of us sitting on a big purple exercise ball, a screaming Clio in our arms, bouncing.
It should be mentioned here that another of Clio's defining characteristics is her LOUDNESS. When she
was on the inside (of me, that is) she made her presence known with
feisty kicks and punches, which was, in part, why we chose her name.
Clio, the Greek muse of history, was known as "The Proclaimer." Our Clio has
been vocally proclaiming herself ever since she was born, first with a
really REALLY loud and relentless cry, then with some very purposeful cooing, and more recently with
high-pitched squealing.
Clio makes her opinions known, loudly, starting on day one.
As expressive as she can be, however, Clio isn't what I'd call an outgoing baby. It takes her a little while to get comfortable with people, and she doesn't do well with strangers if Alastair or I aren't right there with her, in her line of vision. She's got a great smile, and will grin at people like a loon if she wants to, but usually from a bit of a distance. In fact, when she was really little, on the brink of eye contact and then smiles, we found that she was more inclined to do both if we backed off a bit. The girl needs her space, and I respect that. In fact, I really admire (and appreciate) how long she's able to entertain herself. She's usually happy just to lie on a blanket and play with (read: suck on) toys, including her feet, and watch what's happening around her for quite a while. I think she has a rich internal life. For a baby.
On the other hand, there are times when I feel like she's off in her own little world, on her own little wavelength, in a place where I can't quite reach her. It makes me a little bit sad, and also compels me to do things like periodically smother her with kisses and nibble on her feet and cuddle her when she'd probably rather I didn't, in some kind of attempt to hold her closer.
Baby Clio. She's only nine minutes younger and a pound and a half lighter than her sister, and yet she always has felt more like the "baby" of the two to me, if that makes sense. I can't quite imagine but can't wait to see what she's going to be like as a kid, a teenager, an adult. But even more so than with her sister, for some reason, the thought of her growing up makes me ache. She's really got the whole cute baby thing down.
