Pssst, the boss is sleeping, so let me tell you this: I've failed. Which I am beginning to understand is precisely my job.

Turns out that one-month-old Rada is a better teacher than I am. I've gotten her as far as "agu," but she's pushed me into proficiency in her language, so I am now able to understand "I'm hungry," "Burp me," "I'm uncomfortable," "Help me go to sleep," "I want to be entertained," "Are you here?" and so on, though to others all of these may sound like mild variations of crying.

I've also let go of some of my beliefs under the pressures of my teacher. For example, I was an opponent of the pacifier (a dummy, to the British), but my opposition lasted only through a couple of intense crying sessions, the last one ending with my stuffing the pacifier into Rada's mouth, rather impatiently. My change-of-mind has gone so far, that in a moment of desperation I considered putting an elastic band (a very gentle one, say, form silk stockings) on her pacifier to help keep it in her mouth, so she doesn't object loudly each time she doses off and it slips away. (Note to Child Protective Services: it was just a thought.)

But thankfully, I'm a fast, but not terribly obedient student. This morning I was making tea in the kitchen, when I heard the abrupt, short and loud cry for "Are you there?" meaning also "Where are you?" or, plainly, "Come here." Yet, though few things are as upsetting to me as Rada's crying, I didn't rush to her aid. Instead, I lingered in the kitchen for another couple of minutes (It is easier to do this with "Are you there?" than with the insistent, incessant and heart-wrenching crying that is "I'm hungry.") My delay was not deliberate, it was rather instinctive. I just did it. It was also something new to me.

I understand now what paediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott meant when he spoke of the "good-enough" mother. She responds to the baby's demands, allowing the temporary illusion of omnipotence (even though I sometimes doubt whether it is an illusion), protecting the baby from the anxiety that threatens her immature ego in this early stage of absolute dependence. Winnicott thought that failure to do so in this stage may result, ultimately, in psychosis.

But the good-enough mother, unlike the perfect mother who responds infallibly and immediately to her child's demands, also leaves a time lag between demands and their satisfaction, and increases this lag progressively, according to the infant's growing ability to adapt to her failure. The baby immediately compensates for the temporary deprivation by mental activity and understanding. Learning to tolerate her ego needs and instinctual tensions, it turns out, is key to my daughter's health sense of independence down the road.

So thank you, Winnicott for easing my guilt on two scores: on doing whatever it takes (even if against my convictions) to keep her happy and on not always being immediately available. For once, good-enough is just perfect.