Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways we humans communicate. Our 3-month old grandson is starting to “talk” to us, uttering coos and squawks when he appears to be content, pathetic whimpers when we think he’s tired, and screaming (we call it “the Hornet”) when he has gas, needs to nurse, or is generally pissed off. When the Hornet visits, we do a dance, swaying and patting him gently while we whisper “shhh” in his ear. My husband and I have a less-than-even chance that our efforts will placate him; nuzzling his mother is generally more effective.

At 3-months, our grandson is discerning in the quantity of coos he makes. He takes after his grandfather, a quiet man who speaks when there’s something important to communicate. I, on the other hand, try to get the baby to chatter at me by babbling at him, in hopes of encouraging long running conversations. Sometimes it works; other times I look in his eyes and wonder if he is thinking, “Who is that crazy lady who keeps jabbering at me?”