What I imagine goes on in my 9-month-old's mind:
Hm, lots of toys, lots of toys.
Let's see there's a round thing, a hard thing, and a - what the? - what's this squishy thing? And there's a...
I think -- I think -- I just spotted something I'm not supposed to touch. It has a wire and a keyboard and a 2 GHz Intel Core 2 Duo Processor. Yep, yep, I know these things. Let's fire up this bad boy and...
...Damn Ma, why you gotta ruin my fun? You expect me to play with these blocks? I can't watch Hulu on blocks, Ma. Throw a baby a bone.
Why is it, people of the Internet, that my child can open up a laptop but can't figure out how to clap his hands*? (This is further baffling considering he can give "high-fives" and wave but refuses to clap. Not my point, though. Not at all.)
I know kids normally gravitate toward bright lights, like on a computer or TV, but why does the mere sight of my shut-down, unopened Macbook cause a cross-room trek, with those"gimme, gimme, gimme" eyes? Why, when sitting in a sea of toys, does he dive for the remote?
Why are cellphones SO fascinating, when his own discarded cell is soft and colorful and Moos for goodness sake.
What is up?
In the way that my generation instinctively knows how to navigate Facebook without a step-by-step tutorial, or the way that we can figure out how to work a gadget, without instructions, before our parents open the packaging -- Is it instilled at birth now? Do they have a techie gene that evolution deemed necessary for the continuation of our species? How long before they start schooling us?
Maybe it's just because these are Mommy and Daddy's toys.
Maybe it's because they know they're off limits.
Or maybe it's because they're just with-it from the womb.
*Update: Noah started clapping his hands and it's The. Cutest. Thing. Ever. Now my gripe is that he can understand the word "clap" but not "mama"? C'mon, man.
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