Wombs expand to rooms which open into homes and unknowns. I always think tiny newborns swaddled in strollers on the sidewalk probably feel like astronauts on the furthest edges of the universe. Sky water, ear-shattering bangs, and blinding bright lights help baby realize she’s way, way out in the ether.
But back home is a safe place to start exploring. Mommy-Snugglers, Crib Country, and Playpen Worlds eventually open into distant lands beyond bedroom doors. Crawling leads to discoveries such as kitty litter deserts, toilet water swamps, and hidden forests of chair legs under kitchen tables. Eventually there’s freezing ceramic tile tundras, the forbidden stairs, and the strange discovery of silent twisted coil creatures behind doors.
Coil doorstops must first appear strange – lying still without camouflage, smooth and cool to the touch, with a finely twisted base leading to a smudged rubbery nub. Furrowed eyebrows, steely baby gaze, and some steady one-handed balancing eventually lead to the big moment…
Flicking a coil doorstop back and letting it twang forward fills babies with a brain-clicking sense of satisfaction. Way out here on Linoleum Ridge deep in Front Hallway Galaxy is a strange enemy that appears undefeatable. Pull it back for a threatening lion’s roar but then watch it snap to pre-attack mode – just waiting, waiting, waiting — like a quiet crocodile at the edge of the pond.
These days tripping over coil doorstops when you’re sneaking in after curfew, kicking one while taking out the trash, or just twanging it back for no reason at all fills us all — and fills the hall — with a primal sense of satisfaction.
Plus it’s a little mental mindwarp to your baby exploring days.