by Jim Lombardo
Monica reached into the bassinet and ever so gently scooped her baby up into her arms and started rocking her.
“Hello, Hannah,” she said with tears welling. “Say hello to your daughter, Brian, because she’s listening and she understands what we’re saying.”
“Hi, Hannah,” he said hesitantly. “I’m Daddy.”
The baby knew that some individual people had more than one name, though she was not yet clear why that was necessary. Thus far, she had heard her mother called numerous names such as Monica, Honey, and Mrs. Blake. Her father had been addressed by various names as well, including Brian, Bri, and Honey, but she had decided to use Brian because it was the most common. She processed the word daddy and was confused because no one had ever called him daddy before. She reviewed the memories she had stored since her first day, and flashed back to when their neighbor Tony had said to Brian, “You’re a daddy now,” and thought perhaps Daddy was a special name.
“Hi Dad-da,” she said.
Why her mother and father would often call each other the same name of Honey made no sense to her at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Pushing the Envelope
Brian and Monica spent the next week exploring their child’s miraculous abilities. Though Monica was repeatedly insisting they call Dr. Oster, Brian was adamant about holding off on that, in order to protect their privacy.
At first, they worked on getting Hannah to say the name of small household objects and toys. As she lay securely in her padded bouncy chair on the living room floor, the parents took turns putting things close to her face, repeating the name of each several times, then lightly tapping her on the lips to get her to recite it back.
Brian started by showcasing one of Monica’s brown wedge sandals.
“Shoe…shoe.”
Hannah flapped her arms up and down with excitement, so rapidly and fervently that the baby seat was in danger of flipping over. Monica held it down as they continued.
“Shhhh,” the baby replied hesitantly.
“Say, shoe.”
Hannah responded, “Sayshooo,” and then glanced at Brian for validation.
“Just say ‘shoe,’ Brian,” said Monica. “You’re confusing her.”
“Okay, okay…shoe.”
“Shoe,” Hannah responded, beaming this time. She knew she had nailed it.
Once the child had become adept at this exercise, they played a game to test her memory. They filled a cardboard box with many of the items she had learned, and with Monica now on the edge of the couch, holding the baby up and supporting her head, Brian pulled the objects out of the box one by one to see if she could remember what they were called.
“What’s this, Hannah?” he asked after presenting the first item to her.
The baby focused intensely, scrutinizing it earnestly, while ignoring the fine line of drool spilling over her lower lip. Her tiny brows scrunched together and then relaxed several times. In her mind she played back the shape and movement of her mother’s lips when she had formed the sound representing that object. She answered, “Co...cup.”
“Good! And what’s this?”
“Ball.”
“Developmentally challenged my ass!” yelled Brian defiantly.
At one point, he held up a silver fork. “And what’s this?”
“Fuk.”
“Oooooo, careful with that one girl,” Brian chuckled along with Monica. “Forrrrk.”
Some things were harder to distinguish than others.
“What’s this?” Brian said holding up a pencil.
“Pen.”
Some things fooled her. Brian held up a tea bag by the tag, letting the bag dangle on the end of its string in front of her face, swinging back and forth slightly.
“What’s this?”
“Ahhhh…yoyo.”
“No, Hannah…this was the yo-yo,” Brian said after removing the toy from the box for comparison. “This here is a tea bag. Can you say…tea bag?”
Hannah was disappointed at her failure, and felt Brian was being condescending. She decided she didn’t want to say “tea bag” and just turned her head away.
From time to time Hannah was stumped. Her eyes would veer up to one side as she struggled to retrieve the word. After a few seconds she would squirm in her mother’s arms and look directly at Brian, her eyes pleading for the word to be repeated.
“It’s an envelope, Hannah. En-vel-ope,” Brian explained.
“Oh, come on, Brian. Quit with the three syllable ones, for God sakes,” Monica protested. “Give her a chance.”
As the week progressed, the parents tried more advanced exercises to challenge her. They grouped items by color in front of Hannah to demonstrate how certain sounds and words described the quality of an object. After Monica’s lesson on colors, they tested to see if the baby had grasped the concept.
“What’s this, Hannah?” Brian asked.
“Shhhirt.”
“Good. What color?”
“Shirt.”
“Yes, it’s a shirt, but what color? What color?”
“Bwue.”
“Yes! And what’s this?”
“Bananananana.”
“Alright, we’ll work on that one. Ba-na-na. Ba-na-na. What color?”
“Ye-whoah.”
“That’s my girl.”
Every time Brian or Monica tried to stop playing these games to do anything else, Hannah immediately began to fuss, hollering, “A-gain!” To break free, they would often turn on the TV, and set her up close to it with the volume loud enough so she could learn from that instead. They both felt guilty that she was glued to the set so much, but it was a matter of basic survival for the pair. Hannah demanded constant input. She seemed starving for information.
Monica continued to pressure Brian about contacting the doctors, and after nearly a full week of guarding their secret, her patience was strained to the breaking point. “Come on, Bri’, we’ve got to tell everyone about this, especially Dr. Oster. We can’t keep this a secret forever.”
“No, not forever, but you know as soon as we tell even one person, it’s gonna spread like a grass fire in the breeze.”
“So, what’s your plan then?” she asked sharply.
“Look, I do want to let Dr. Oster in on it, but just not yet. I say we keep it on the down-low, until we see where it goes.”
“See where it goes?” Monica scoffed. “So, what if it’s going somewhere bad? The doctors at Fahey need to know. Where’s your medical degree?”
“Don’t be like that, Monica,” Brian countered. “You really want a freak show on our front porch this afternoon? You want our baby paraded around like a circus act? Yeah, it’s amazing what she’s doing, but think about it…what if this is as smart as she ever gets? Then she will be mentally challenged, and we’re gonna wish we had kept our yappers shut.”
Hannah pivoted her head toward her parents. “I lub mon-keys,” she declared before turning back to her National Geographic program.
Monica put her hand to her heart. “Oh, dear Lord, my child loves monkeys.”
Brian reached up and clenched the hair on both sides of his head. “Is this all a crazy nightmare?”
Just then the doorbell rang. Monica and Brian looked at one another with dread in their eyes, and both said in unison after a few seconds’ thought, “Aunt Doris!” They had invited her and Phil over on this day, but with all the drama of the past week, they’d completely forgotten.
Chapter Eighteen
Aunt Doris
“Maybe if we don’t answer, they won’t know we’re here,” Brian whispered. “Kill the TV!”
“But our cars are in the driveway. Where else would we be?” Monica answered while clicking off the TV that was airing a Guinness Book of World Records show. The segment was featuring an attemp
t to break the record for the most dogs on a surfboard. Hannah was totally engrossed, and had a lot of questions.
“Onnnnnn,” the baby shouted in despair.
“Quiet!” Brian demanded in a sharp whisper, and then demonstrably motioned like he was pinching his lips together with his thumb and index finger, so hopefully both of them would get the gist.
“HELLO! MONICA? BRIAN?”
Aunt Doris’s booming voice was coming at them from what seemed like every direction. The doorbell rang again, followed by forceful knocking. Brian and Monica sat still, trying to decide what to do. They could hear Uncle Phil scolding his wife for making such a racket. Monica was clearly bothered by snubbing her aunt.
“They have a meal for us, Brian.…She wants to see the baby again.”
As the two relatives began arguing outside, Pudge started barking wildly.
“Oh, alright, go let them in,” Brian conceded. “But we need to keep a binky in her mouth at all times, no matter what, and we’ll tell ’em they can’t stay. Hannah probably won’t be able to get a word in anyways with your aunt squawking away like an auctioneer.”
Monica made her way down the front staircase in earnest. “Coming, Aunt Doris!” she called, instantly silencing the ongoing quarrel. Swinging open the door, she apologized for the delay. “Sorry! We were just—”
“Monica, darling!” Doris shrieked. “Oh, how are you? I can’t stop thinking about you! Is everything going alright? Oh, I know how hard it must be, sweetheart. I remember how much work it was when you were a baby. I mean, it was a labor of love, but so much work, constantly this and that, especially in the beginning.…You know I—”
In order to disrupt Doris’s stream of consciousness, and engage in an actual two-way conversation, somebody had to interject.
“I’m doing okay. We’re all doing good,” said Monica. “Hi, Uncle Phil. Come on up, and thanks so much for the lasagna,” she said, reaching for the glass, foiled-covered tray.
“No, no, I will carry it. You just take care of yourself,” replied Doris. “I put extra ricotta cheese in just like you like, and I made it fresh this morning. I put in extra parsley and some nice ground sirloin that I got from Renton’s market. They bring in fresh meat every day. I can get you some steaks there if you’d like, and bring them over, or even just ground beef if you want. They told me that—”
Phil chimed in as the group remained stalled at the bottom of the stairs. “Doris, do you want to go up and see the baby today or next year?”
“Oh, yes, why were we here again?” the aunt said jokingly, and then belted out an obnoxious chortle.
As they rounded the corner leading into the living room, Doris cried out, “Where is that little baby? Where is that munchkin? Where is that…ohhhhhhh!” she cried, handing the lasagna tray off to Phil and putting one hand to her head and one to her heart. She walked towards Brian who was holding Hannah, exaggerating each step as if she was having a cardiac emergency. “Ohhhhh, Hannah! Oh, there’s my precious girl. Can I take her, Brian? Can I take her forever?” Doris punctuated her question with another insufferable cackle as Brian gave her the baby, making sure the pacifier was jammed firmly in place.
“Oh, I’m in love. Look at you. Did you miss me? Did you miss your Nana Doris?” the woman bellowed. “Oh, she’s grown some more hair, my little Goldilocks. Let me see that beautiful face.”
She began to tug at the pacifier, but Brian jumped in. “Aunt Doris, we’ve got to keep that binky in there, or...or she’ll take a nutty.”
Doris then began talking to Hannah in a baby voice. “Are you gonna cry? Is my beautiful girl gonna cry if I take that binky away? Why do you like that silly thing, darling?”
Hannah found Doris interesting, but her voice was so loud that it made her ears hurt. She was curious as to why this woman was asking so many questions, never pausing for an answer.
As the aunt went on and on, Phil took refuge on a recliner in a corner of the room. Like a boxer in between rounds, he needed a break from battling with his wife’s incessant prattling.
Monica let her guard down and began to enjoy the visit. There had been so much stress and uncertainty over the past couple of weeks, and for this moment, she felt safe and relaxed. Though her Aunt Doris had a much different personality than she remembered her mother having, there was a striking resemblance between the two sisters—the moxie in her eyes, the contours of her face, and the comforting fussing over her. She momentarily forgot about all her worries, and savored watching her aunt and uncle enjoying this new life that had come into their family. Brian, on the other hand, was a man on a mission. He watched Hannah like a hawk to make sure that her pacifier didn’t fall out. After 20 minutes of socializing in the living room, he gently tried to coax the pair to leave.
“So, just about time to nurse, Monica?” he said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“What? Oh…oh, yeah. Aunt Doris, I really should get to feeding her, and getting her to sleep. Can you both come back another time, but soon?”
“Oh, of course, Monica, whenever you want, you just call and I’ll be right over. Even if it’s for just the smallest thing. When Brian gets back out to sea, I can come and stay as long as you want. I remember when—”
Phil butted in before Doris got too far off track. “You can tell Monica all about that on your next visit. Let’s let these parents tend to their baby now,” he said with a sly wink to Brian, who had just safely reclaimed Hannah from the aunt’s clutches.
Doris planted a kiss on Monica’s cheek, and held her by the shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Monica. Now you call me a hundred times a day if you need to.” Monica sunk into the embrace of the aunt who loved her as much as if she were her own child.
“Take care, Brian,” she said, patting him sweetly on his stubbled cheek. “Of course, if you need me to come and rock little Hannah while you take care of yourself—”
“Thanks. You’re the best, Aunt Doris. We’re lucky to have you,” Brian said, motioning for her to move toward the stairs.
But Doris stood her ground, and turned her attention squarely on Hannah. “Oh, my sweet baby. Oh, how I love you. I’m gonna miss you so much!” She continued to move closer and closer to Hannah’s face, talking faster and louder with every inch. “You’re the cutest thing, the cutest thing, the CUTEST little baby GIRL! I LOVE YOU!” The aunt’s crescendo continued until the clamor was simply intolerable.
Hannah spit her pacifier out forcefully, glared at Doris, and blurted out, “Awww, Aunt Dowis…Qwy-et!”
Doris straightened up and stood wide-eyed and speechless for several seconds, before asking, almost inaudibly, “What?”
Hannah responded firmly, “Qwy-et!” Then mimicking Brian earlier, she raised her right hand and squeezed her lips together with her thumb and index finger to hammer the point home.
No one moved or uttered a word until Brian finally threw his hands up in resignation. “That’s the ballgame. It’s out now. It’s so very out now.”
Brian’s prediction about the freak show on their front porch was accurate, just premature. Despite pledges from Doris and Phil to remain tight-lipped about this secret, Doris would only be able to remain quiet for so long.
Chapter Nineteen
Wordplay
The fleeting final week of privacy following the departure of Monica’s aunt and uncle was another period of remarkable growth for Hannah. Barely two months of age, her speech was rapidly becoming more sophisticated, and her vocabulary expanded as fast as new words could be introduced to her.
She was even beginning to get accustomed to the use of the short adjoining words used when speaking, such as “a” and “an,” which she astutely realized were commonly used before object words, similar to “the.” The baby recognized that the word and usually separated two things someone was talking about. She was also deepening her understanding of the word the. Her asses
sment was that even though this was the most commonly used word, it had no actual meaning by itself, which was why it was never spoken without other words accompanying it. Its purpose seemed to Hannah to be the speaker’s way of letting the listener know that the word that followed was special in some way. Unfortunately, this word was one of the hardest for her to reproduce. Creating the “th” sound in “the” was quite complex. It required pressing the tip of the tongue firmly against the bottom of the front upper teeth, which she didn’t have yet, and transferring a humming sound from the larynx to that point of contact, then timing a release of the vibrating tongue to precisely coincide with a sturdy stream of air from the lungs. Since Hannah didn’t have any teeth, using the front roof of her mouth instead resulted in a “da” sound. She was experimenting with alternatives, such as using her upper lip in place of her teeth to try to improve the result, though she hadn’t quite mastered that yet.
Hannah continued to hone her pronunciation skills through spirited experimentation and by staring fixedly at her parents’ mouths as they spoke to see how words were formed physically. She was becoming increasingly comfortable stringing basic words together to express her thoughts and needs. Much of it was decipherable, though her efforts were often jumbled and chaotic. Lacking in experience, sometimes things went completely awry. Once, Brian got frustrated at a balky power drill and lashed out at the tool.
“This stupid thing keeps crapping out on me.”
Hannah’s solution? “Gwab di-pee!”
Brian and Monica shared the coaching duties, and it seemed like every minute produced an amazing new achievement. During her teaching degree program, Monica had studied early childhood development, and she was now able to use many of the skills and concepts she had learned to encourage and boost Hannah’s progress. The baby could now already hold her head up at length on her own, and her mother would position herself closely in front of her face and carefully enunciate words and phrases, while acting out what she was saying.
