The little brat has been learning to have fun. Two recent breakthroughs were each the result of our persistent coaching.

The first involves tongues. I’ve stuck my tongue out at the kid for weeks, trying to make him return the favour. Finally, he started to do it back, but in a sort of vaguely bemused way. As of the last few days though, he’s really into it: he sticks it out as far as it goes (Gene Simmons, watch out); moves it around; giggles insanely during the performance as we laugh our heads off in return. Today’s innovation is the wet raspberry.

The second skill is splashing water. Ever since the first week he’s been home, and we’ve given him baths, I’ve been teaching him how to splash. I did this by swinging his arm into the water, and of course saying “splash, splash, …”. A few weeks ago, he started to do some mini-splashing with his legs only. In the last few days, however, the full glory of that sport called splashing has started to register. He sits up or is held; his hands go wild into the water; his whole face and the nearby few square meters get covered in water; he cackles with delight.

Yeah yeah … a childless reader won’t care, the same way I didn’t. It’s actually not the accomplishment of the physical act that’s so neat though – it’s that the brat seems to be developing a sense of humor, of play, which my infantile mind can fully match.