The Heart of Mushy Cereal is Love

02.22.2011

I baby-sat today and after about a 12-year gap of taking care of a toddler, there are many things I forgot about. For example, bibs are an excellent invention and breakfast isn’t a 15-minute affair. In fact, it’s not a 30-minute affair or a 45 or 60-minute one. Also each action is a reaction to a negotiation and why more mothers aren’t hired as lawyers, contract arbitrators or political negotiators is beyond me.

I was also reminded that a “quick” walk down the block would be more than 15-minutes. And I learned that convincing a two-year old that traipsing through a bed of flowers takes more skill than solving a computer problem. Or that convincing said two-year old that chewing on miniscule dinosaur toys isn’t good for you could instantly become more challenging than any statistical math problem ever presented. Both involve logic, right? You’d think.

There are other things I forgot about in this 12-year absence such as the magic of tiny hands offering a hug or the stretching out of one of those tiny, chubby hands to share a now mushy piece of cereal that at one point was in the mouth but is now intended to be consumed by me. I also forgot how sacred the trust is that we are all born with and lose along the way. I also didn’t realize how protective I feel about that trust. I forgot how melodic a child’s giggle is or how wondrous is the moment when a child realizes if you pour sand into a construction toy it will make wheels spin. And how this simple mechanical toy fascinates a toddler’s imagination for a very long time.

I still believe that children are not ours to keep; that they are merely ours on loan and from the very first moment we hold them in our arms we are to teach them to be independent, respectful and loving. I also believe that whatever psychological and emotional issues we have as individuals they are ours to work out, not the child’s responsibility to either mask those problems or “fix” them. But what I’m coming to realize is that while we should be teaching them independence, they teach us to open our hearts and eyes to the world and to understand that independence isn’t the sole point to survival. Children depend on us and we depend on them to remind us that the flower they stop to smell is a necessary moment to feel connected to everything around us. Perhaps it is the children that are our true teachers and not the other way around…