[24] Out of the Mouths of Babes and Sucklings

Some years ago back in Scotland, a neighbour of mine named Rosa - the single mother of Emily, an angelically beautiful 4 year-old girl - was forever expounding the virtues of being a new age mother. Rosa openly boasted of how she spent her entire pregnancy reading book after book on natural childbirth and instruction manuals on how to ensure that her expected offspring is afforded the best possible start in life. This apparently included, among other things, subjecting the unborn child to endless hours of Mozart, Brahms and Mahler, by means of specially adapted earphones taped to her expansive stomach.

Rosa was indeed delivered of a healthy, bouncing baby girl, who grew in her initial years to show every sign of developing into a delightful, happy and intelligent human being. Rosa openly stressed upon her daughter that she must refrain from using childlike words such as choo-choo for train, baba for baby and doggy for dog, to lend just three examples, and all of which caused much head-shaking and tut-tutting from my own and other mothers in the neighbourhood.

“Why can’t she just let the child enjoy being a child?” was the oft-heard lament.

One hot summer in the mid 1970s, Rosa asked my girlfriend Linda and me to babysit for the by then 4 year-old Emily, which we were more than happy to do. We were left with strict instructions which decreed that Emily must be put to bed not a second after 8pm and that it must be lights out and no debate.

I enjoyed reading to the delightful child as she sat on my lap, immersing herself in the story animatedly and with great enthusiasm. All too soon it was 8 o’clock and time for Emily to retire to bed. Linda and I both escorted her and tucked her in. She sucked her thumb as she returned our goodnight, a natural and heart-warmingly childlike gesture which I felt sure would meet with the vehement disapproval of her demanding, if well-intentioned mother.

At around ten minutes after eight, Linda went to check on our charge and noticed a light shining under the door of the child’s bedroom. We both entered the room to find Emily with her nose in a book which was half-hidden under the blanket.

“What are you doing Emily?” I enquired with a smile.

“Your mother will be angry if she finds out you switched the light back on,” said Linda more firmly. “You should be asleep by now young lady.”

“Oh please,” the child protested. “Just a few more minutes. I’m reading Winnie the Shit.”
I was reminded of this recently when Susan, a work colleague related how, on finding her 4 year-old son Tim biting his fingernails, advised him in no uncertain terms to desist.

“Why?” he demanded, like a typically inquisitive and persistent child.

“Because,” his mother replied, thinking on her feet. “Because…it will make your tummy grow really big and you will be fat like an elephant.”

Tim seemed to settle for this explanation as he stopped biting his nails and resorted to picking his nose instead.

A few hours later, Susan and Tim were sitting in a café enjoying tea and milk, when the boy’s attention was drawn to the heavily pregnant lady seated at the next table. Tim stared with wide eyes at the lady’s huge round stomach which looked to him like it was straining to burst. Susan and the woman exchanged smiles as Tim continued to stare. The woman smiled at Tim and patted her bulging stomach.

“You looking at my big tummy son?” she asked with a warm and inviting tone.

“Yes,” confirmed Tim with a frown which hinted at disapproval. “And I bet I know what you’ve been doing.”

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings…