Never Grow Up.

This past Monday, I had the opportunity to work in the infant room at the Child Development Center. I usually work in the toddler room so, when I came in Monday morning and learned that I had to run the infant room, I was kind of nervous. "Kind of" being an understatement.

The first hour and a half, I was by myself. I was scared at first, especially when the tiniest baby I had ever seen came in the room, but I got over it more quickly than I thought. I used to think babies cried all day, demanding one-on-one attention. I was happy to learn that this wasn't the case. All of the babies in my room were tearless by the time the second person came to work. All was well.

Around 8:30, a mother came in with her son. He was a cute baby, almost a year old. He was one of the sweetest babies in the room. He would smile at you and laugh when you showed him a new toy. If he was on the other side of the room and you called his name, he would stand up and start running over to you smiling. The closer he got to you, the more unsteady (but quicker) he became until he literally fell into your arms laughing. Honestly, one of the best babies.

After lunch, the kids started falling asleep one by one. The last baby standing was this little boy. Since the other caregiver in the room was rocking a different child, she asked me to hold this sweet boy and rock him to sleep. I picked him up and brought him over to a matt. I sat there holding him in my arms. He kept reaching up to my hair and playing with it. He made babbling noises and I'd talk quietly back, which made him smile. After a while, he started drifting off. Even though he had fallen asleep, and I know that I was meant to put him in his crib, I couldn't help but to keep him in my arms.

As I sat there looking at this innocent, little boy in my arms, I couldn't help but think how unfair it's going to be for him to grow up in this crazy world. There's going to come a point where he is going to fall victim to the pressures given to him by friends and family. He's going to feel the need to prove himself and keep up with those around him. He's going to go through that stage in life where he's a little punk and does things because they're "cool" even though he probably knows they aren't right. He's going to make mistakes and he isn't going to remember how sweet he really is deep down inside.

I got a little teary eyed thinking about this. Nobody who deals with him through these rough patches (teachers, friends) will know of the sweet, innocent boy that I got to know. They're not going to know how he used to smile when someone came in the room or how he would run up to people as they stood up. They aren't going to know of his cute little laugh or his big smile. They aren't going to know of how peacefully he slept as he trusted someone to rock him. 

I got up and walked over to his crib. As I lowered him into it, I told him to never grow up. I thought I said it quiet enough that no one else would hear but the caregiver in the rocking chair looked at me and said, "Honey, life can only be so simple."