Why "One Yawn"? Sometime during my adolescence, I'm thinking eighth or ninth grade, I wrote an essay theorizing that there only ever has been, and only ever will be one yawn. At some point, in distant human history, some cro-mag-something-or-other yawned (boredom? tired? I won't speculate). This looked like a lovely way to relax to the other fellas (or ladies) who witnessed the First Yawn so they, in turn, yawned. The yawn wove itself into our evolution, becoming infectious and compulsive. When someone catches the yawn, they have to pass it on to the next person or be stuck, indefinitely, with the One Yawn.
Of course, this has never been proven. Perhaps there are more than one yawn these days. I suppose with so many people in so many different areas of the earth, the One Yawn will have to have divided (like the asexual reproduction of a one-celled organism) in order to accommodate the growing world population.
When my son was born, some of first very basic things he did (beside cry) was yawn. I don't know why the yawning of a newborn strikes me as so precious (oh gosh, isn't just about every facial tick precious?), but watching him yawn and transfer that yawn to his dad or me, reminded me of the above mentioned essay.
Obviously, there is no such thing as one yawn. However, the thought spurred the realization that, although he is no longer inside my belly, we are still very connected. Of course he nurses, but it goes beyond the obviousness of the connection between mom and nursing baby. We are intertwined on so many other levels and passing that yawn between the three of us is just a so very basic connection.
