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And then: our beloved baby is getting on our nerves. His obstinacy (in resisting some everyday routine) provokes our impatience. And our obstinacy. (And a bit of rage, incomprehension, perplexity). First we feel a stab, then a hole opens up, promising nothing good. We are in danger of losing our composure. But obstinacy does not seem to be obstinacy. The baby’s and his parents’ obstinacy are not at all the same. His obstinacy is not a reaction, as ours is. And immediately we believe that the obstinacy that has us in its grip is a false obstinacy, due to our having ceased to continue admiring our baby’s obstinacy. To follow him. To serve him.