Playtime

A couple of days I ago I read somewhere online that newborns should get at least 10-15 minutes per day of “belly time”—time during which they are lain face-down on a blanket, mommy and daddy nearby, with a few toys scattered 6-8 inches from their head. The idea is to get them to reach for the toys, or at least crane their necks around to look at them, which will help them strengthen their little necks. Their necks need strengthening because at birth their heads are like pumpkins attached to their little bodies on a string of limp pasta. Everyone knows this.

Trine and I have diligently been giving Molli her 10-15 minutes of “belly time” ever since. We lay this pretty pink receiving blanked on the living room floor, plop her down on it, and murmur reassurances. We’ve been impressed by her ability to raise her head. She usually lies stupefied for a moment or two, eyeing us curiously and blinking at the array of little toys scattered around her, then lifts her head just enough to flop it over and face in the other direction. She repeats this once or twice before belly time is over.

Yesterday was a totally different experience.

First of all, I forgot to turn off the television before setting Molli down on the blanket, which happened to be set directly in front of it. I realized my error at once and went scrambling for the remote as soon as she was safely down on her back (we’ve got to start her off on her back, then flip her over slowly for belly time). By the time I had the remote in hand, however, I realized Molli was mesmerized by the television. They say you need to be very careful not to overstimulate a preemie. They say you can tell they’re being overstimulated when they throw their hands in front of their face, cry, or turn their heads away from the source of stimulation. Molli typically does all three when I sing to her.

Not only wasn’t she exhibiting any signs of overstimulation—her eyes were riveted on the CNN sports anchor, and a smile played at her lips.

CNN went to advertisements, so I clicked around to something more visually interesting—the Cartoon Network.

Molli obviously had no idea what was going on, but the flashing pictures and silly music seemed to enchant her. We marvelled at this, as though neither of us had ever seen someone stupidly staring at a television screen before, then finally turned the television off and flipped the girl onto her belly.

She went through her usual routine, but startled us by actually trying to prop herself up into a crawl at one point. She also seemed more interested than usual in her toys. Then we set a mirror beside her, and she just lit up. She admired herself for the longest time, reaching out and touching her tiny reflected fingers. She was completely absorbed. (No ego problems on my side of the family, so this narcissism must come from Trine! Er… yeah.)

The mirror fired her up, so she got even more involved with one of her rattle toys. Trine and I were transfixed. We’d never before seen Molli so actively engaged in anything but biological functions.

We praised her wildly, flipped her onto her back, and moments later Molli looked up at us sweetly, opened her mouth, and demonstrated her first projectile vomiting. That was impressive, too. Fortunately we had farmor on the phone at the time and she reassured us that this was not unusual and should not alarm us. (We would have been alarmed: Oh my god! Mirrors make her barf!)

Later we settled her back in her pram. She’d enjoyed the mirror so much I put it in the lift with her, taping it in place for security, and we gazed beatifically down at our self-absorbed daughter as she gurgled with and reached out to herself. But guests were on the way, so it was time to straighten up the apartment a little.

We went about our business, leaving Molli to play with her reflection. We heard nothing but contented burbles from the pram until, a few moments later, there was suddenly a terrified, hair-raising shriek. We both ran to the pram. Molli lay with her back to the mirror, shivering in fear.

The mirror came out. We still wonder what she’d done to frighten herself so badly. I hope it’s not an acknowledgment of sadism to say I wish I could have seen it—or that I think it was adorable.

She has her one-week check-up at Hvidovre later today. We should get another measurement and I’ll post it when we get back.

She’s making a fuss… time to wake her mom…