Getting my Goatee

Yesterday, my thirteen-week-old son Wyatt grabbed my beard for the first time. Reason No. 197 why your own child is completely different from someone else’s.

Yes, I’ve held babies before, and they’ve touched my face. Sure, there was a moment of, “Aww, how sweet.” But that’s all. When Wyatt ran his fingers through my beard, it was the culmination of weeks (nay, months) of gross motor skill development. And every time he does it from now on I’ll be reminded of all the steps he took getting to that place – from grabbing my finger at two weeks, to discovering his hands a few weeks ago, to batting at a rattle soon after that, to reaching up and stroking my face.

I don’t want to set the bar too low; I’m sure he’ll continue to impress. But the beard touching will still be momentous for me. It might have been his first “curious to know” moment satisfied -- where he thought, “I wonder what it feels like?” and set out to find the answer. (So what if my beard’s touched his face many times; I didn’t say he was a frickin’ genius.). He thrust his arm forward, managed to land his hand on target, and touched fingers to facial hair, sending a signal back to his brain – “Ah, scraggly.” Actually, probably more like, “Ah, different,” since just about everything he’s ever touched has been soft.

It’s a wide world out there, waiting for discovery.