SHHHH . . . THE BABY . . .

“Watch your tongue! The baby is listening!”

So odd for me to be uttering that admonition to my kids and everyone else hovering near the cradle of tiny Sophie Pearl, birthed into the world just last week by my eldest and her husband. Odd, because, God forgive me, I have far too tart a tongue for a thoughtful human being, much less a man of the cloth. My instinctive response to stubbing a toe or dialing the wrong number is inevitably the “s” word, and lamentably, my vocabulary of ire is far broader.

No more. This I vow with even greater certitude than fasting next Yom Kippur. On Day Three of tiny Sophie’s life, I impulsively cursed some momentary goof-up with the “s” word, and then instantly recoiled in horror at violating the aura of innocence that heretofore swaddled her.

So, I immediately called a family meeting around her bassinette. I declared with atypical patriarchal authority:

“There will be no swearing around this baby, starting with me! There will be no utterance of cynicism, hatred, gossip, trash-talk, slamming, negativity, putting-down, crude joking, within the walls of this house, starting with me! Little Sophie is listening!”

Possible? Who knows? But, I will try like . . . er . . . uh . . . heck (yeah, that’s the word!) to make it come true. The admonition to my family, and myself, I promise, will continue. And for all the things I do wrong, this I pledge I will get right.

Get real, you may say. OK, this is real: Sophie will have plenty of opportunities for exposure to swearing, cynicism, negativity, trash-talk, and dare I say, danger. It will be as close and unavoidable as the schoolyard, the TV, the street in front of her house, the candy that she will be taught not to accept from strangers, the seemingly innocent envelope that she will be taught not to open, despite her innocent exuberance.

That is reality. Doting parents and grandparents cannot spare any child from those realities, however bilious, that lurk at the doorstep. Too much hate, too much rancor, too much deception, “out there.”

What can we do? We can at least turn our “in here” into a safe haven to which a child – or the nurture-starved child within each of us – can return for the reassurance of security, unconditional love, the cherishing of innocence, the banishment of harsh, hateful speech.

Our homes can become a refuge from all-too-imminent realities, not a grotesque replication of all the rage that our babies will encounter “out there.” What a horrible nightmare to be chased by a monster, running home to escape, slamming the door, thanking God for deliverance from danger, only to find that the very monster is lurking right over our shoulder. No, home must be unshakably safe.

This is what we can do: We can encode our kids, even subliminally, from the moment they egress from momma’s womb that life is really about being swaddled with love, purity of speech, innocence, abundant compassion, kindness of deeds, sharing of laughter, comfort from hurts, a sense of protective all’s-wellness. Let them learn only later, once fortified by life’s enduring lessons, that what passes itself off as reality on the outside is an aberration, that home is real.

Am I asking too much for tiny Sophie Pearl to be mercifully spared, at least for now, from the despair and rancor that terrorize our daily comings and goings? Am I asking too much for her to have the sense that angels are guiding her path, hovering protectively about her bassinette, counting and recounting her sweet little fingers and toes? Am I asking too much for her to have inbred the instinct that home is a safe haven, a sure and dependable refuge from life’s threats and woes?

Am I asking too much? Throwing logic and rationality to the wind, I am willing to try, and to wish to each of you – parents and grandparents – nothing less for your little ones: a protective aura of all’s-wellness around each tiny cradle, a blessing from God to be sure, but the sweet fruit of our own determined and manifest love.

Dreams of sweetest raisins and almonds for you, my tiny Sophie Pearl.