I had a little person come to spend the day with me. His mom is a friend I had not seen in a while. The thought of her was so strong the end of last week, it caused me contact her at work - the only way I knew of to get in touch. I found out she was having some problems: financial/family issues. To include child-care of a one year old. So I offered to take him for a day.
It's been a loooonnnnggg time since I spent the day with someone that size. And now I know, as they say, why God gives babies and small children to parents who are young. Sadly - he cried most of the morning. I rocked him to sleep twice, but he woke up both times when I tried to put him down. He finally agreed to eat some cheerios and a couple of saltine crackers instead of that cold clammy oatmeal his mom sent. But never did take that nap she assured me he would need at mid-morning.
You know how you can often tell babies are getting tired when they start rubbing their noses? And start getting whiney? This little guy cried so much, and was so unhappy being in a strange place with a strange person, his nose got drippy, and drippier. And he would wipe it, (or I would before it ran off his chin), and then it would be on his hands and he would crawl around some more: leaving a little trail of snot across the tiles. You know how you can sometimes look at the sidewalk when the light is right and see the trails of garden snails, as they inched across the paving, leaving a glistening wandering little path that dries in the sun? I have that across my kitchen floor, as a memorial to the little guy who got foisted off onto a stranger in a parking lot.
When I concluded that nothing I could do would make him happy, with his incessant weeping for that which I could not provide, I gave up: decided to let him get it over with - thinking, if nothing else, when he is done he will definitely be ready for a nap. So I tied my kitchen cupboards together (the ones that hide the bad chemicals), since he was plundering through all that, and just let him be sad. It eventually dribbled down into a trickle, and I picked him up, we rocked a bit, and he fell asleep. But woke up as soon as I tried to lay him down... and oh boy! do I remember how that works!
I'd planned to just take him along when I had a appointment to keep, but when he was so miserable, I knew that would not be a good idea, so had to call and postpone. But did take him when I went to meet a friend for lunch, and somehow, for some unknown reason, he finally decided to just make the best of it. I had the stroller, and when I rolled him in the restaurant, he charmed everyone in the place. Ate cheerios out of my hand, drank water from a cup, enjoyed a few bits of bread crust from my sandwich, and a couple of small pieces of boiled chicken.
Just a sweet, smiling, cute little man, showing off all six of his tiny, sparkly white teeth to anybody who would look his way. People kept stopping by the table and commenting on what a happy, agreeable person he was. Wish that I could have taken credit for all the amusement he created by suddenly getting over that stranger phobia. By the time we parted ways, when I took him back to his mom mid-afternoon, he was calling me mama. I may have to get on her list of 'regulars' in the future.
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