We just passed your 3-monthiversary, which is supposed to be a big deal because you passed the “fourth trimester” and should be a human being who sleeps through the night like other human beings sometime soon. Compared to other 3-month old creatures, you are way behind the curve. In March, the pigeons outside our apartment had a small brood of their own. Their babies were out of the nest, flying and making more baby pigeons by April. Somewhere in Africa, 3-month old lion cubs are taking their first furtive strides to hunt down gazelles. 3 months in, you can…kick your legs really hard, smile adorably, and that’s…about it.
House plants are mobile than you. You have zero survival skills. Zero. All the other animals out there must be thinking, What the what? How are those things in charge?
Anyway, we have a chart that shows where you should be. I’m going to give it a brief rundown and see how you stack up against other humans. Here is what you should be doing and what you are doing at 3 months:
Recognize other familiar adults
Yes. You recognize your mother and me. That happened last month. Now, you recognize other family members, too. We can tell because if you don’t recognize someone, you crank up your best Samuel L. Jackson eyebrow and look thoroughly perplexed.
Increases activity when shown toy.
Makes crawling movements.
Check. You have this giraffe named Sophie. She’s made of nice smelling rubber and speaks really bad French. When you see her, you will sometimes grab her neck, jam her little nubby antlers into your hard palette, and fling her around like a club. While you’re doing this, you inexplicably start kicking your legs at maximum capacity, like you’re on the mountain setting on a stationary bike.
Holds up hand and looks at it
Yup. You go a step beyond on this own. Not only do you hold up your little chunky fist and occasionally clock yourself in the temple, you also grab little rings on the play mat. Bonus! It’s kind of a crapshoot if you actually manage to wrap your fingers around the intended target. One of those crane games at the arcade has better fine motor control than your little meat rockets, but you are getting better.
Laughs out loud.
You do one better, Blue. You howl like a wolf. Your mother and I do it first, and then you smile real big, and try to copy the sound. It comes out as a whistle-y grunt, but it’s clear you’re recognizing that your parents are wolves. So that’s real good.
As an added bonus, we’ve also started doing tummy time with you. This is where we place you down on a blanket face down with your Popeye arms tucked in under you and watch proudly as you do your best to keep your head up off the blanket to avoid suffocation. It’s just one of the many crazy things parents do to help their children grow up to be superior to all the other animals out there so that we can make rubber giraffes for kids to club. When you get really tired and start to French kiss Winnie the Pooh, we pull you up, wait a few minutes until you’re ready again, and then do the whole thing over. You’re getting good at not dying, Blue, and you’ve even started to master the subtle art of rolling over.
One step roll closer to world domination, dude.