Ineffable

Tomorrow Hannah turns six months old. This afternoon after a big meal, she fell right asleep, completely askew, in my lap. I have never seen such complete trust, vulnerability, quiet and comfort. It's hard to believe that six months is the complete tally of her existence; that a few short months ago she was a tiny, wailing, purple thing; it's like she's been a part of our lives forever. All my training in observation, measurement, and my attempts to describe my baby girl came up completely against this perfect, quiet, moment. Both of us, pretzled up on the couch.

Babbling

Like I said earlier, Hannah has been making a wide array of fascinating sounds. Luckily, the World’s Most Annoying Sound only lasted a day. Her babbles are mesmerizing, and the consonant sounds are getting clearer. Do they have meaning? The other night, as we were hanging out in her room Brian said to her “dadadadada.” She smiled and said back “dadadadadadada.” They had this proto-conversation at least half a dozen times. It brought tears to my eyes it was so sweet, and scientific skepticism be damned, I’m convinced it was her first truly vocal communication with us. And the next had better be “mamamamamamama.”

Turns out that babbling is not just meaningless vocalizations the province of newscasters, tour leaders, and lonely old women at the fabric store. Early babblings are universal in babies around the world, regardless of culture, or even whether the baby is deaf. Deaf children go through a gesturing phase that is just like vocal babblings in hearing babies. In fact, even songbird chicks also go through a babbling phase before becoming proficient singers. The extent to which this babbling phase is important in developing language was the subject of a 2002 paper in Science – “Left hemisphere cerebral specialization for babies while babbling” (Holowka and Petitto, 297: 1515). The take home message is simple: when babies babble, the right side of their mouths open more, when they smile, the left side opens more, and the mouth stays symmetrical when they are making non-language related sounds. In fact, we all speak like Jean Chretien to a certain extent, but as adults our brains have learned to make faces talking to us look symmetrical. Don’t believe me? Go look in a mirror, take a hand mirror to double your reflection like the hairdresser does, and talk. You might see it.

This reflects the fact that the left hemisphere is where language is processed. Does this mean that as humans we are hardwired for language? The extent to which language development is nature versus nurture is a huge argument that is still ongoing, but there are a couple other compelling reasons to think that language has a strong nature component. There is a genetic component to speech that is partly controlled by the gene FOXP2. The gene itself is ancient, with versions in mammals, birds, even insects. In songbirds, its expression in the brain coincides with the period of greatest song learning. The human version of the protein contains two amino acid differences from that of chimpanzees, our closest relative. Given that the gene is so highly conserved – or so similar – between species, the adoption of two amino acid differences during the evolution of humans from our ape ancestors suggests that these differences imparted a strong evolutionary advantage. Along with physiological changes in the larynx to make complex vocalization possible, changes in FOXP2 may be what make language possible.

So maybe Hannah, before my eyes, is showing me the most unique aspect of her emerging humanity, how she’s learning language.

On the left, my darling girl is smiling because Canada scored during the Olympic Gold Medal hockey game, and you can see that her mouth is slightly more open on the left side. On the right, my darling girl's wail is clearly saying take this stupid hat off me, and the larger opening on the right side of her face indicates to me that she really wishes she had the words to tell me how she really felt.

She some chatty

It finally happened. My darling little girl has discovered the world's most annoying noise. She has gone from making adorable baby chatter to something like this. (And kudos to whoever looped that.) It's not an unhappy noise, it's a constant, thinking about-the-world and enjoying-her-vocal-chords kinda noise. It gives me sympathy for Brian and all my old roommates who have had to listen to me sing while I cook.


Having said that, a child learning to talk may be the most adorable thing in the world. My niece, Cailin, wins for the cutest baby stutter, when at something like 14 months would say "wah - wah - water?" everytime she saw it. The mispronunciations come next - her three year old little brother Harrison has some real doozies, such as "hopsicle" (hospital) "ballila" (vanilla) and "pink dink" (picnic). I very much enjoyed getting him to say fox for a while - he couldn't say X, it came out as a K sound. New parents and especially friends of new parents delight in teaching kids to say borderline things. That can quickly backfire - the husband of my friend Kerri Ann, Tim, taught his 2 year old son Carter to call a friend jack ass. Unfortunately, when Kerri Ann, Tim and Carter and Brian and I spent Christmas dinner at the house of said friend, Carter spent most of Christmas dinner yelling jack ass! jack ass! at the dinner table.

I hesitate to call these kiddy-isms, it's so treacly, how about infanphonics? Toddlese? Anyway, some of these have entered the common parlance around my house. Quite often, they shorten conversations quite nicely. "Doing?" "I DO-ing" (after Brian's nephew Declan). I don't say "that's all right, leave it to me," I say "do it SELF." Another Cailinism.

Now Cailin just keeps upping the ante on adorable things to say. She is now 5 going on 24, has an enviable fashion sense, and runs a tight ship where she and her brother are concerned. Since the day she could finally string together words, she has been apt to utter pure poetry. "Mom, I need a new nose. This one is leaking." When she was three she was dismayed to be told that she couldn't play in the playground until summer. Days later, as she was looking intently out the window, my sister asked her what she was doing. She was searching for summer. And once, when my sister was talking to her on the phone, she suddenly said "I have to go mom. I don't have a job so I have to take the kids to the casino."

We have no idea where she gets these. Her weird comments are timely and incredibly astute about the world. The latest is the best. My sister had put out a plate of cheese for guests which included applewood smoked cheddar. Cailin declared that she didn't like it. "It's too smoky. It's too...... San Franciso-y."

NO idea where that came from, and even under some pretty determined questioning Cailin wouldn't break. I love it though. San Francisco-y. Like slightly pretentious in a progressive sort of way. Like too nouveau cuisine. Like too foggy and indistinct. I have no idea. But I'm keeping it. That phrase has a whole world of possibilities.

Earth Day

Happy Earth Day! At the risk of ruining this blog with sincere feeling, I do have to say that it’s hard to underestimate the impact that having Hannah has had on the way I see the world. In school we were always encouraged to think about generations past our own (I went to cool schools) but having a child makes it real in a whole new way. So, to dispel my SUV guilt (it’s killing me) I am going to devote this post to some good green resources for kids, specifically around Calgary.

I really think that the best thing you can do for the environment is cloth diapers. I’m lazy, and don’t like to do laundry, and am not exactly what you would call a natural home maker (I just set off the smoke detector baking muffins from a mix) so I opted for a diaper service. I was VERY pleasantly surprised to find that a diaper service is not that much more expensive than buying disposables. I went with Happy Nappy, which has franchises in whole bunch of cities in Canada. They drop off as many diapers as I need and pick up the dirties once a week. I even change her diapers out of the home, and just have a special bag to bring home dirties. I am not kidding – they are no less convenient than disposables! There is the argument that the energy and chemicals that go into cleaning them makes them less than perfect, but this hardly as big a concern as using approximately 5000-7000 disposable diapers per child. If you are more organized than me, you can buy your own and launder them. My darling friend Jaime with the one year old twins does her own diapers, and finds it really convenient and easy. She calculated that with twins cloth diapers were cheaper than disposables, and the right brand can even have resale value. The ones she got were from Babes in Arms, a cute store off Elbow Drive and Glenmore Trail in Calgary, that seems to be expanding its repertoire of environmentally friendly products.

As for baby products, I am just starting to experiment with the environmentally friendly brands. My friend Kerri Ann is a rep for Only Green products, and so far I’m pretty impressed with their selection. They also sell environmentally friendly cosmetics, clothes and household cleaners. I have just bought baby soap, shampoo and cream – I will let you know how they work out. My concern is persistent organic chemicals and as much as possible I would like to minimize Hannah’s exposure! Along these lines are BPA free bottles. BPA (bisphenol A) is a chemical that was used to temper plastic products. BPA mimics estrogen in the body, and thus has been implicated in impairing brain development and sexual development, and contributing to heart disease, diabetes and cancer. In 2008, Health Canada proposed classifying BPA as toxic and subsequently many retailers pulled BPA-containing baby bottles, food containers and sippy cups. In my own searches I have not found any baby bottles commercially available that do NOT say that they are BPA-free, thus it is not hard to get safer bottles. It might be worth replacing any old ones that you might have.

Cleaning products are a big one, and I have very strong opinions on this. MOST OF THE CLEANING YOU NEED TO DO ONLY REQUIRES SOAP AND WATER. THAT’S IT. First of all, soap is naturally antibacterial, and soaps marketed as antibacterial are no more effective at killing bacteria than regular soap. Also, a certain amount of bacterial challenge is beneficial. You will NEVER be able to eliminate your exposure to bacteria, given that the human intestinal tract contains 10x more bacterial cells than cells in your body, and you would not want to. There is some evidence that an overly-sanitized existence has contributed to the rise of autoimmune diseases, including asthma, in first world countries. Vinegar, baking soda and borax are all excellent natural cleaners. I do buy household cleaners but I mostly use environmentally friendly ones. The best household cleaners that I have ever found are enzyme based, but I have a hard time finding them. If I were ever to rant about parenting, and parenting of the few areas I try to avoid ranting about, I would encourage people not to try to raise their kids in an antibacterial bubble. It’s impossible, and you are essentially replacing bacterial challenge with chemical challenge. At least humans have evolved some mechanisms for dealing with bacterial challenge. Which is not to say that you should let your baby gum raw chicken, I’m just arguing for some common sense and relaxing of the antibacterial hysteria. For laundry, I recommend Nellie’s laundry detergent and drier balls. The detergent is hypoallergenic and mostly soda, from what I can tell, and made in Canada. It’s available at Calgary’s Farmers Market.

SPEAKING of the Farmers Market, I sadly parted with more money than I’d like to admit buying produce there under the assumption that because it’s sold at the Farmers Market, it must be local and organic. Not everything there is. Most of the produce is local, but not all, but luckily it is ALL labelled well. Be aware too that Hutterite produce, though definitely local, is not always organic. I’ve decided to make my own baby food and so far I have found it ridiculously easy. Essentially I steam whatever fruit/vegetable I’m interested in, puree, and freeze in ice cube trays. Chicken can be poached and treated the same way. I have bought baby cereals which are fortified in iron, and found that Superstore sells a good selection of organic baby cereals that are reasonably priced.

Furniture and room furnishings are difficult. Used or repurposed furniture is always a great idea that really reduces one’s environmental footprint. I have not found a good used furniture store in Calgary, and would love to know if there is one. Kijiji is always a great option and some children’s consignment stores sell furniture. If you do buy new, know that most furniture contains a great deal of chemicals that are volatile and not necessarily good to be exposed to, including formaldehyde. Ikea’s furniture is apparently sourced from farmed trees and its pressed fibre board is formaldehyde free. The cribs can be converted to baby beds so will have a longer life in your home, and they are reasonably priced. In looking for a VOC-free paint for Hannah’s room I was surprised to learn at Home Depot that their VOC-free base is only suitable for very light colours. Instead I went to Benjamin Moore and bought their VOC-free paint, which can be a base for any colour you like (including colours chosen at Home Depot – ha ha ha). It was about twice the price of a gallon of paint (around $60) but one room only required one gallon.

Finally, toys. It’s amazing how after six months I have already reached my breaking point with kids’ toys. They are expensive, ridiculously over packaged, and I have yet to meet a kid who isn’t showered in them so it’s impossible to find something really special. I have thus decided to borrow hand me downs or buy previously loved toys as much as possible. For example, I spent days looking for a good mirror toy for Hannah, but I couldn’t find one for under $20. FOR A MIRROR. A NOT EVEN VERY GOOD MIRROR. Instead I went to my neighbourhood consignment store, Huckleberry Kids, and bought a stuffed turtle with a mirror belly for $4. And Hannah loves it. I am increasingly becoming more interested in buying consignment toys, and there is a good selection of consignment kids stores in Calgary. They also sell clothes, which is a great option for weedy little ones. Here are a few:

www.lullabylane.org

www.onceuponachild.com

www.sproutzkidz.com

www.starbrightforkids.ca

www.huckleberrykids.com/Index.htm

For new clothes, it’s a good idea to wash them first to remove any wrinkle-resistant additives. Here are some more online retailers that sell environmentally friendly kids toys and clothing:

www.sagecreekcanada.com

www.hankettes.com

www.ethicbaby.ca

www.figkids.com

www.wildrepublic.com

www.plantoys.com

www.ecotoytown.com

www.grassrootsstore.com

www.tenthousandvillages.ca

Only Green sells a GREAT book called Ecoholic: Your guide to the most environmentally friendly information, products and services in Canada. This is the source of a lot of the information I used on this post.

Finally, the most important thing: we’re all doing the best we can. I have had a few heart attacks just tonight putting this post together (OMG, I had TUNA while I was pregnant! MERCURY! And her new clothes! I DIDN’T WASH THEM FIRST!!! She’ll get CANCER!) and I have to remind myself all the time – I will not be perfect. We’re doing the best we can, and if our kids have a non-organic apple or two, they will survive JUST FINE. Living well is never a destination you reach; it’s always a work in progress.

Aunt Sandy

I’ve got a new parental dread: daycare. I’m starting to worry about daycare because sometime in the next six months (and no I don’t know when I’ll go back to work, stop asking) I’m going to have to find Hannah a spot. It’s very difficult in this city to get daycare, as most places have a waitlist that is on average one year long. If your child is less than a year old, it’s even harder. I’ve come to the conclusion, however, that it probably doesn’t matter that much if the day care you get is the best in the city or the filthy home of some neglectful days-of-our-lives addict with a half-finished basement. Your child will turn out fine either way. And the only clue you need to avoid the really bad ones, I have decided, is to make sure there’s no blood on the wall.

Which takes me to Aunt Sandy’s house. Oh Aunt Sandy. Not an aunt at all, but some stranger who made her manicure money by neglecting the neighbourhood kids. The only thing I can remember about her is her red, red nails. It was her house with the half-finished basement to which we were exiled, and except for meal preparation she spent the day watching soaps and polishing her nails. Aunt Sandy’s preternaturally keen ears were always tuned to the opening of the basement door – WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I need to go to the bathroom, Aunt Sandy! Okay, then right back downstairs! There was a day that the plumbing was wonky, so if we had to use the bathroom we were marched down the street to the home of some family of seven children whose names all started with J.

The basement was less than idyllic and probably not at all safe for children. Our play area took up most of the basement, but not all. Aunt Sandy’s husband had a work room in the back, which held dusty tools that had not been moved since the Nixon administration and less dusty piles of porn. I don’t remember how many of us children there were, but I do remember that her son Derek made my life miserable. He was a year older than me and quite the bully; I’m sure that now he’s a cop, principal, or dentist. No, he wasn’t smart enough to be a dentist. Maybe he’s in parking enforcement. Anyway, a budding scientist from day one, I remember being partly thrilled and horrified after my dad told me how every surface of our body was colonized by various organisms, and that wasn’t a bad thing. With little kid glee I told Derek that his eyelashes were covered in bugs. He held me down until I yelped “MY EYELASHES!! MY EYELASHES ARE COVERED IN BUGS!!!” (In retrospect, maybe I deserved that one.)

I mean, this place wasn’t just substandard, it was a twisted, demented joke. In retrospect, it should have been patently clear that Aunt Sandy’s house was unfit for children from the blood on the walls. Upon entering the house through the garage we were welcomed by the family dog, a poor, stupid lab whose name is lost to the sands of time. He would be so excited to see us that he would come running, wildly wagging his tail. Wagging his tail against the narrow walls. Leading to bleeding of the tail, blood smears on the walls, and eventually, the docking of said tail. It was quite the greeting, a new Rorschach pattern on the walls daily.

What can I say? It was the 80s. Ahem, 70s. Standards were lower then. And my sister and I turned out okay. In fact, maybe I learned an early lesson on controlling my nerdier impulses from the resident bully.

Experiment on your kids!

Two of my favourite parents had some great bathroom reading: Great Lies to Tell Small Kids. They have a wonderful, honest and charming relationship with their daughter (“Phoebe, do you know what hungover means?” “That’s when Daddy sleeps in the bathroom.”) and I quickly learned from them that the best parenting involves a little bit of being a kid yourself. Part of being a scientist is indulging my childish sense of wonder, and I’m finding a wonderful whole new world of possibilities now that my friends have small children, and I have a baby of my own.

Rewind to Tuesday – I take Hannah to a raucous playdate with my friends Jaime, and her 13 month old twins Sophie and Riley, and Carolyn and her 14 month old son Ben. I remembered a simple experiment from my favourite book Baby in the Mirror and sat down in front of Ben, mostly because he was the oldest and nearest. I got him interested in a small plastic lion, and while he was watching, put it underneath one of two small bowls. A toddler shell game! Ben, where’s the lion? Smart boy, he immediately turned over the correct bowl. We did this two more times, and each time I put the lion under the same bowl while he was watching. The fourth time, while Ben was watching, I put the lion under the other bowl. When I asked him where the lion was, he went back to the original bowl. This is called an A-not-B error. It may be a result of an incomplete understanding of object permanence – the understanding that an object continues to exist when it is not in view - combined with difficulty in overwriting old rules with new information. Thus babies and young children repeat a motor skill that had resulted in an award earlier. Incomplete understanding of object permanence leads to a baby’s delight in the game of peek-a-boo. When mommy hides behind something, she is GONE! And then she reappears! It’s MAGIC!

So Hannah, poor girl with the misfortune of having a scientist mommy, is in for it. She’s a little young yet for mind games. Not that behavioural studies can’t be done on newborns, but the metric that’s measured is usually what they look at and for how long, or how hard they suck on a soother. I don’t have the necessary equipment. BUT, we HAVE started experimenting with the more mundane question of what she likes to eat. OH! I have looked FORWARD to this moment for a long time – the introduction of real food! Health Canada recommends waiting 6 months before the introduction of real food, but I couldn’t wait that long and I don’t think she could either. The frustration on her face as she watched Riley, Sophie and Ben eat their snacks was evident, and my fingers had dents from her furious gummy chewing on them. So at 5 months and 2 weeks Hannah was plopped into her bumbo, given a spoon, and the mayhem began.

Why didn’t anyone warn me of the comedic potential of baby eating? The faces, the growling, the grabbing! The look of alarm on her face when she sees how hard mommy is laughing! The mess, of course, I was expecting and looking forward to. Not so much fastidious Brian, the poor guy is going to have a rough few months until Hannah’s coordination improves. Stella, our dog, on the other hand, is going to be delighted. But I digress. The real losers, dear readers, might be you guys, as this blog degenerates to self-satisfied mommy blogging and gets filled with updates on what Hannah likes to eat and what she hates. Bananas are a maybe. I’ll keep you posted.

You're advertising WHAT??

We’re a young family and I’m a scientist so as you can imagine we are short on nickels to rub together, so I sold out to the man and added ads to this blog (Day one – 37 cents – thank you Mom!). This is a Google-run enterprise so you would think they would be pretty good at matching content, but what do I see when I checked for comments today (Day 21 – one comment – thank you sister!)? AN AD FOR AN ANTI-EVOLUTION BLOG!!! One can only hope that a) I get another 37 cents for clicking on it and b) he/she gets ads for my site.

It would be marvellous to have a civil discussion about evolution and theology. The problem really is lack of common ground, and the kindest way I can put it is that evolution is based on evidence and intelligent design is based on faith at best and wishful delusion at worst. But for meaningful discussion about science, there are two basic popular misconceptions that have to be cleared up. First, a theory in science does NOT mean some wacky idea that hasn’t been proven yet. So when it’s called the ‘Theory of Evolution,’ that is not to imply that it is a neat idea that may have some merit. In this case, theory means a group of principles that guide our understanding of basically all of biology. Secondly, just because there are two explanations does not mean that they have equal validity. So often, the media will give equal time to two explanations of a phenomenon. It gives the impression that there is a credible other side; but as for global warming and vaccine efficacy, the scientific evidence for evolution is overwhelming. I keep thinking of Lewis Black stand-up: “FOSSILS! FOSSILS! FOSSILS! I WIN.”

Creationism as a competing theory fails on the ground that it is not science. In a fascinating decision, Judge John E. Jones III of Pennsylvania ruled that Intelligent Design – the more popular cousin of Creationism – is not science. The case Kitzmiller et al. v. Dover Area School District pitted was a captivating test of this question, as the school district was trying to include Intelligent Design in the science curriculum. Essentially, because Intelligent Design is not a theory based on evidence, it does not qualify as science. You can read the full decision here and an interview with Judge Jones here.

Anyway, that’s my rant. As I watch the ads being renewed I can see there are a lot of blogs devoted to creationism. Kudos Google. I wonder if after my agonizing post about SUVs there will be a Hummer ad next. Let me know.

How am I yuppy? Let me count the ways......

The first and most obvious is this blog, but let’s dig a little deeper, shall we? Every mom has some reservations about this giant life change – pining for party days, or their high powered career, or their size 2 body. My younger friends at work still invite me to their bar nights, and while I’m thrilled to be invited, honestly, it doesn’t sound like a lot of fun anymore. We get there at 10? PM?! I clearly miss my tepid powered career, and don’t even get me started on the sadistic ways that motherhood has messed with my body, but these aren’t my biggest regrets. My biggest is that I used to be a hippy. Not just any hippy, not a sometimes buy organic produce and have a predilection for patchouli-based scents hippy, but a student at the University of Victoria in the 90s hippy. A vegetarian, marching on Seattle hippy. A move to small mountain town to be a wildlife biologist hippy.

The depth of my fall was brought to my attention recently. No, not when I spent $70 on one compact of mineral foundation, or when I obsessed over the décor for Hannah’s room. Not even when I pick my dog up from the groomers. It was talking to my dear friend Christy who goes back to my university days, as she agonized over buying an SUV. And I realized that we already have one, and a house in suburban Calgary from which we commute 40 minutes to work every day. In our SUV.

Oh the dereliction of youthful promise and the hypocrisy of middle age is not a new theme either, but it’s funny how little it matters to have heard it all before when you’re going through it! I remember asking my favourite teacher in junior high, Mr. Hajek, what happened with the 60’s? What happened to you guys? How did it become the 80’s? He looked at me sideways, like he was regretting opening the floor to such discussion, and admitted that people get tired. Just get tired of trying so hard.

To a certain degree that’s bullshit. It’s hard to believe that the decline of the idealism of the 60s to the rampant greed of the 80s was the result of fatigue. Having said that, it IS hard to remain an ascetic. As I sit in front of my gas fireplace with my laptop and beer and rationalize that my SUV has room enough for Hannah and our 80 pound dog Stella, and enough stuff for a weekend if we put a sport box on the roof. It has heated leather seats and turns on a dime! AND THAT FOUNDATION WORKS WONDERS! I’m ashamed to admit it but a certain amount of hypocrisy is required to survive in the world. It doesn’t take away from the things that you do try to do. Like buying organic produce every now and then. And in the family truckster, with baby and dog and sport rack box on top as we drove to visit the folks in Edmonton, I made peace with my radical side and promised to keep using cloth diapers and be more conscientious about bringing my reusable coffee mug with me wherever I go.

Besides, it could be worse. We were passed on the highway by a Mercedes with a Thule on top.

What a ride...

I wonder what she’s thinking. She stares intently at the toy hanging from her little baby gym, and works so hard to get her hands around it, then blows all her breath out her nose and starts to furiously flap her arms and kick, before doing it again. Now that she’s five months old I’m more confident attributing these little tantrums to excitement or frustration, but I’ve been speculating for months. Isn’t it strange that we know so little about those early years, about what it’s like? That artists, writers, have mostly ignored this mysterious time? There is a great book, called Baby in the Mirror by Charles Fernyhough, about this topic. It’s about a neuroscientist who studies early childhood development and has a baby himself, then writes a tender and sweet account of the first three years of his daughter’s life.

In my own first hormonal weeks with Hannah I worried about everything; whether she ate enough, grew enough, cried enough, cried too much, slept enough, slept too much, was she breathing okay, feeling okay, loved enough, dressed enough, held enough. She didn’t give me many cues to her inner state other than sleeping and wailing and precious minutes of awake time. Those waking times were a flurry of arm waves, big eyes, pursed lips and strange wiggles. She was a tiny alien with a completely new language. I expected gazing adoration, but she didn’t gaze in my eyes, she stared at my forehead. I didn’t realize that newborns’ eyesight is so poor that they are drawn to the area of greatest contrast, the hairline. As well as teaching me that, Baby in the Mirror gave me a precious, charming and incredible glimpse into how her consciousness was evolving.

Those early weeks were not only a sleep deprived haze for me, but a dream time for her – there is no difference between brain wave patterns during sleep and waking for a newborn. It is as if they are constantly in a dream. And what a dream! It’s hard to imagine how jarring that transition to the world must be. Babies don’t just come alive at the moment of birth – they have been preparing for that moment for months, with practice breathing, movement, swallowing, hiccups even. But imagine all the experiences that are new – vision, smell, cold, and the movement of their own limbs. Because their corneas are not yellowed with time, they see bluer, higher wavelengths than adults can, and their brains have not learned to distinguish sounds from their own echoes. The lack of processing available for all these new senses results in synaesthesia, which is the blurring between different senses. Smells may have colour and sounds may have tastes. What a green voice, a spicy sight! (Fernyhough 2009) This has been an incredible ride for me – but what a trip for her.