The Hat

Oakland to Salt Lake, uneventful, layover, quiet, loading, sitting, taking off, nothing to speak of, and then.

I hadn't noticed during boarding, I suppose I was reading, but there it was, right in front of me, the one thing guaranteed to make women go soft and strong men cringe, a baby on an airplane.

We were at 30,000 ft and miles away before I heard him. Maybe he’d been sleeping. Now he was restless, maybe tired although it didn't sound like that characteristic tired baby cry, more like frustrated. He was loud enough. Poor mother was trying to settle him down but with little result. He just kept it up. I couldn't see either of them through the seat. I could certainly hear them. Him loud and amazingly steady, I wondered that he didn't seem to need to breath. Her speaking softly and the longer it went on the more desperate she sounded. Trying to sooth him failed, reasoning with him was even less effective. She made a valiant effort.

I took off the hat. I like this hat. I have in mind the first time I saw it in the catalog it had a leather brim but I didn't order till the next year and it came in canvas. Forest green canvas brim and a bold red canvas body. The white ball is great, not just a bundle of yarn with the loops cut short, it feels like some sort of hollow rubber ball wrapped in soft, fuzzy white whatever. Feels great, squeezing it gives you an oddly satisfying emotional response, sort of peaceful, calming.

I put the ball on the top of the seat back and slowly slid it forward. She must have been holding him facing me because the response was immediate. He went quiet.

I slid it down and then back up to the top of the seat and then started it down towards him again. Up and down a couple times and then… yes, a giggle, barely audible but there it was, well maybe a gurgle. I slid it down again and then as I was pulling it back up I felt him. He didn't try and yank it away as I had expected, just a gentle tug. I felt a moment of dread thinking how it would look after he started chewing on it.

We went back and forth a while. I’d pull it up and he’d pull it down, nothing violent, not a sound, just slowly, steadily, and back and forth.

I was surprised when he let go. I had expected a battle to get my hat back. Oddly, I wasn't satisfied. I pulled it over to my side and then pushed it between the seats. I’m already distracted from my book. I’m not ready to give up the game. I peek between the seats and see him smiling and looking and then he grasps it. I pull and he lets it go. I slid it over the top again and immediately he takes hold.

Here we stay. I can’t say how long, but we stay, each of us holding our end. We have no sight of each other, we make no sound but we stay. My mind wanders and I think of the importance of human contact. I wonder if this engagement between us has some sort of meaning. Is this him learning to interact with the unexpected? Is he responding to my hat because it is something new where his mother asking him to quiet down probably isn't.  Is it the soft furriness of the ball, or its squeezy nature, or is it my pressure, pulling? He knows I’m there, he saw me. Is it human contact or is it just the ball? And why on earth am I still pulling on this thing now that he’s gotten quiet? We stay, each pulling just enough to stay engaged.

The noise and jostle of landing breaks the spell. He lets go. I put my hat on and she thanks me over and over, relief plain in her voice.

I’m thankful. He never chewed on it.