Attachment Toddling

Several posts ago--before getting sidetracked by what a legal scholar in my department yesterday termed "the start of the post-Constitutional era"--I promised a post on Edith's attachment to people and things.

Shortly after she was born, I read an excellent neurological science book, for the layperson who fancies herself smart enough for technical jargon, called What's Going on In There?: How the Brain and Mind Develop in the First Five Years of Life. Never mind that I can recall almost none of the particulars, I enjoyed working my way through it. The chapters each dealt with the development of a single cognitive function and were presented in the order in which these functions started to appear: from sense of touch to sense of balance and orientation in space all the way through to language development and then that ambiguous thing we call intelligence.

Somewhere shortly before language was a chapter on emotional and social development. Here's where I regret not remembering the details--probably not only a function of my lack of scientific training but also of the fact that I read the book before my own child had anything like a social and emotional life, so I had no hard experience against which to compare the text. Now this new capacity in Edith seems to have emerged suddenly and rather strikingly, in a variety of forms, such that I wish I knew more about how it all worked.

Perhaps the most traditional marker of such affective development is that after months of tossing aside all stuffed animals indiscriminately whenever they got between her and a plastic noise-making toy, Edith has developed a fondness for one particular creature in her collection. It is an unassuming white bear, named White Bear, who of course was the one animal not actually given to her but in fact, to her father as part of a birthday balloon bouquet. Dad has graciously parted with the beast, and Edith has made a home for him in her menagerie. Actually, an exalted position: I found her a gift box of appropriate size, and White Bear now luxuriates in his own bed, right next to Edie's, under a washcloth blanket. Edith's favorite interaction with White Bear is to put him to sleep. She works very earnestly to take the washcloth by the corners and fully spread it over him, a maternal touch she hasn't quite mastered. But she clearly thinks it's important. When she has managed as best she can, she turns and gently shushes anyone in the room. White Bear typically sleeps 5-10 seconds at a stretch--not bad for a eight-month-old bear, I suppose--before being stripped of his blanket and greeted heartily by his attentive mama.

We have asked, but White Bear does not seem interested in eating, nursing, or being rocked or read to. And he is not allowed to ride in the doll stroller, which must at all times be stripped down for aerodynamism. It's a speed machine, not a conveyor of small creatures. But lest all this lead you to think, as we did, that Edith is casually taking White Bear to bed without any real affective ties...When we inadvertently left him behind in Hoboken a couple of weekends ago, she woke each morning until his return with the anxious question, "Beah?" on her lips. I guess she had peeked into his bed first thing on waking up and been troubled by his absence.

More recently the first words on her lips in the morning have been "Hawy Hawy Hawy!" She is extremely fond of her buddy, Harrison. The past two mornings she has collected a favorite book or toy, and rather than bring it to us as usual, has run to the front door with it, banging for us to let her out so she can go share the beloved object with Harry Harry Harry.

And it's not just Harry. Her fondness for people can be seen in the fact that she is learning names faster than almost any other words. She now knows most children her age in the neighborhood by name. She also knows their parents, who are mere nominal extensions of their offspring, important as conduits to interaction with the children. She will spot Annabeth's mommy or Sian's daddy at a distance and begin to shout their daughters' names, hoping that the appearance of the adult means the child is close at hand.

As in adult friendships, some children excite her affections more than others. She is quite fond of Mimmy, a new addition to her class (his parents call him Timmy). She also has a soft spot for the younger daughter of neighbors in our building. She has hardly ever played with the eleven-month-old Av-wy (Avery), who is outside much less often than her more active big sister, but that doesn't keep Edith from clamoring for her every time one of her family members appears on the horizon.

Conversely, she is wary about the seemingly pleasant Hannah. We don't know why. Perhaps she senses a rival? Just a few weeks older than Edith, Hannah is the other young toddler girl in the neighborhood who is bold, confident, and physically active. Not usually one to be cowed, Edith keeps a close eye on Hannah from the superior perch of my arms whenever we meet her and her parents on the street or playground.

Fifteen years ahead of schedule, Edith also identifies her friends by their wheels. As we pass the dozens of parked strollers in our neighborhood, she'll point to those of close friends and inform us they belong to Ha-wy or Av-wy or Mimmy. Bikes belong to the slightly older Nee-mum (Liam) or Am-buh (Annabeth), as do a certain minivan and Subaru, respectively. (Our own green station wagon is now the prized possession of "EDIE!!" as she reminds us every time we step outside.)

If parents don't merit individual names in Edith's world, grandparents certainly do. She has seen both sets in the past two weeks, and now has down a name for each: Mor-mor, Grandpa, Mom-mom, and Pop-pop. She'll point them out in pictures, too. There's a remarkable aura around grandparents. Within two minutes of their arrival each weekend, she clearly knew she had someone special on hand. She warmed up almost immediately and was a live wire for her adoring audience all weekend long.

Her cousins also have all made an impression, despite her seeing them rarely. Their pictures hang on our refrigerator, and a few weeks ago, she started identifying them all correctly without prompting. When all four are viewed at once, either on the refrigerator or in a photo in the album, she almost invariably identifies Dah-go (Santiago) first. Then Mammie (Maggie), Mat-mo (Matthew), and Abih (Abigail) in turn.

This weekend Uncle Peter comes to visit. We started trying to prepare her by showing her pictures from his last visit and naming him. He's always had a special magic with kids. We'll see what Edith thinks.