So, babies are supposed to spend some time daily having something that is called "tummy time." Tummy time is, as you might think, time babies spend on their...tummies. This has become a sort of mandatory baby curriculum, rather than an organic part of life, because babies no longer sleep on their stomachs* and thus spend no time on their stomachs unless you put them there. And it's important to spend time on the tummy, because it helps babies develop their neck and arm muscles, and ultimately helps them learn to crawl.
Tummy time! It is important! Despite the fact that it has an irritating and twee name!
So we here have given "tummy time" a new name. We call it "angry time." Because duh, put a baby with no muscle control face down on a blanket...and guess what happens? They have a profound encounter with their own inability to do a n y t h i n g. A baby face down can do nothing. And they hate it! They rage. They flail. They make loud noises of profound discomfort. They curse their stupid parents. They issue forth whole pre-verbal monologues on the futility of their infant existences: Oh!: tummy time. It sucks.
At least, Elliot does. He is normally a mellow and happy guy, and tummy time sends him into spirals of such irritation that we pretty much...don't have tummy time around here. We don't like it. It stresses us all out.
But today my friend Michelle C. was telling me how a nurse had given her a big lecture about how babies should have "TummyTimeTummyTimeTummyTime! As much as you can stand!" So I came home all motivated, had a glass of wine to take the edge of the yelling, and geared up for some postprandial angry time.
And guess what? Elliot rolled over! He did, totally dramatically, and all by himself. I had actually stepped into the other room, and returned to see just the end of the gymnastics.
So I suppose we're sticking with the regular angry time curriculum around here. Come over after dinner anytime to see when and if he repeats the show.