Raising a baby reminds me of the degree to which language learning--learning of all kinds, perhaps--is based on pleasure. Once again this evening, the little guy laughed when I said, while he was nursing, "Your mommy and daddy love you very much." I'm sure he didn't understand the words, but he understood the tone of voice I was using. And he was completely bored with a toy I showed him yesterday--four cloth birds sitting in a cloth birdhouse--but when I made peeping noises and had them marching through the door into the house, then lifted the top of the house and they all came tumbling out, it was better than any action-adventure film for him. And whenever I read to him, and come to his favorite pictures, his eyes light up every single time--and this is what amazes me--he has different smiles or laughs for each of the pictures that he prefers. For pictures of tigers it's a look of intense pleasure. For the "Red" character in Hop on Pop, it's as if he's rediscovering an old friend. For the monkey in a pop-up book, it's a slight but intense giggle. He reacts differently for the different pictures, but in almost the same way each time one of his favorite pictures appears.
Just seeing his eyes light up once while I'm reading him a book or talking to him or playing a game with him, reminds me of the rich pleasures life offers those who are truly open to it. It's just my damn good fortune that it often happens several times a day.
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