My baby girl has a crooked head. My husband and I noticed it about a month ago. The crown of her head is off to the side, giving her an unbalanced look.

"She's such a thinker, her brain is having a meltdown," my brother quipped.

"You're the Lopsided Lady," we'd tease.

"You should take her to a doctor," my mother said.

And I knew she was right. But it was just before we left for vacation. And don't babies often have all sorts of strange bumps and protrusions that right themselves on their own? I promised myself I'd deal with it as soon as we got back, but then I was drowning in deadlines and laundry. I figured I'd wait until we had to visit the doctor for another matter, and then bring her along.

A few weeks passed. I was in the park one Shabbos afternoon, shmoozing with half a dozen other melting mothers, when my baby's head came up in conversation. "Oh, don't worry too much. A lot of babies look funny, and then the skull rights itself as it hardens," was the general consensus.

"This can be serious," she told me gravely, "I'd see a doctor immediately." I gulped.

One mother disagreed. She had just come back from the States where a surgeon had operated on her baby's cleft palate. "This can be serious," she told me gravely. "The surgeon who treated my son works with everything connected to the head. He does surgeries on babies with crooked skulls. I'd see a doctor immediately." I gulped.

Two days later, we were at the doctor. He seemed to think it was rather serious as well. My baby has torticollis, he explained, a condition in which some of the muscles of the neck are tender, making it painful to turn in a particular direction. The doctor reassured me that the condition could be treated, but that it was essential that we start immediately. We were to go regularly for physical therapy sessions. And, just to be safe, we should see a pediatric orthopedist, and perhaps a neurologist as well. More gulping.

I went home and started reading up on the condition. According to what I read, physical therapy is usually sufficient to treat torticollis. However, if left untreated, the condition can lead to a variety of long-term problems including loss of motion of the neck, neurological problems, permanent facial asymmetry, and the need for cranial surgery.

I called the physical therapist immediately. "Torticollis," she said knowingly, "That's rather common. How old did you say she is? Four months? That's pretty old to start therapy for this condition."

The waves of guilt threatened to engulf.

"It will take a week or so to sort out the bureaucracy. Until then, make sure to give her lots of time on her stomach. And do everything you can to get her to look in the other direction. It's all a matter of practice. If she turns the other way over and over and over again, the muscle will become stronger."

So we started our campaign. I give her tummy time in the morning, my husband lies on the floor with her in the evening. We switched the position of her baby seat so she could only face us if she turns to the right. We keep her to the left of all activity, keeping her turning that neck. It was astonishing to see how after just a few short days, there was already slight improvement. She could turn to the right more easily and for longer periods of time.

This afternoon I took the baby to the pediatric orthopedist. He echoed what the other professionals had said. "Both the torticollis and the odd shaped head are due to how she was positioned in utero. The head should straighten itself out by the time she's two years old. The neck needs working on if you want it to be cured. Make sure to get her physical therapy. And you may want to do a hip ultrasound just to make sure that there are no problems there. But this should all work out; don't worry."

I exhaled for the first time that week.

One day you wake up and your kids are nearly adults, and you have nothing to do with them.

A few days ago, I had the privilege to speak with a premier educator. He mentioned the importance of constantly working to build relationships with our children. "It's always manyana, tomorrow, as the Spanish are fond of saying. Tomorrow we'll start the diet, speak with our children, devote time to our spouse. After all, our family is not going anywhere, so we can be better parents and spouses another day. But one day you wake up and your kids are nearly adults, and you have nothing to do with them."

His words resonated. Yes, my baby's head didn't look great. But it wasn't awful either. I'll get to the doctor -- tomorrow. I'll deal with it -- soon. And in the meantime, the damage is insidiously taking place, until one day it's irreversible. Thank God, I woke up in time to treat my daughter's neck and head. Hopefully she won't need surgery or suffer any long-term damage. But what about my children's souls? What about their thoughts and attitudes, which are being formed with every interaction we have?

The solution need not be daunting. At the moment, all my baby needs is tummy time and a shift in where we place her. The physical therapist will give me exercises for her neck. Success hinges not on monumental efforts, but on unwavering consistency. We need to work with her every single day. Five minutes here and ten minutes there, and suddenly she can swing her neck far more.

This works on the emotional level as well. Small, consistent positive interactions with a child will build a solid foundation that will stand us in good stead in later years. A hug, a compliment, a smile, a board game -- do them often enough and great things will blossom.

Rosh Hashana and the Ten Days of Repentance can be an overwhelming time of year. So much we need to change. So many ways we wish we were different. Yet change is in our grasp -- if we can do it consistently. A kindness each day, an hour during which we try to refrain from negative speech, ten minutes of learning Torah. And next year we'll be able to turn our heads with so much more freedom, our line of vision taking in even greater heights.

This article originally appeared in The Front Page.