Peek-a-boo is the same game in every language.

Tim, at nearly a year, is discovering that he has a voice. He babbles, yells, and every so often cries and screams, specifically when he can't figure something out, such as why I'm not holding him when he wants to be held (hey, I can't read minds... yet), or why that one Big Block piece just won't fit onto the other. I adore the boy, but when he's frustrated he is one sour "kleiner Mann." Which is where peek-a-boo comes in. It's my secret weapon. I break it out every time.

"Tim, schaust du hier!" *cover face*...*quickly reveal* "Peek!"
It's always followed by an enormous smile, even mid-scream.

It's the same game here as it is at the CCLC on the Guelph campus, just with a different audience; and there really is a simple reason. Infants his age the world around are all learning the fact of object existence. First the face is there, then it isn't, but wait, then it's there again! Does an object that one cannot see or touch still exist? Well, certainly. As adults we've figured that one out. But infants dropping food from their high chair are fascinated that something once in their hand now exists on the floor. And they'll drop their food over and over again, looking over the edge each time in fascination, seeking to satisfy this new notion that things outside of what they are touching and seeing do indeed exist elsewhere.

Psychologist Piaget viewed infants and children as "little scientists," constantly experimenting with their surrounding world in a drive to make sense of it, and until Tim fully grasps the concept of object permanence (and that my face does actually exist behind the hands) through his experimentations, I'm going to keep peek-a-boo in my back pocket until it must be replaced with a new game.

Candles