I've been around a lot of kids in my life: cousins, the ones in church nurseries, kids I babysit and nanny for. And I've loved all (ok, nearly all) of them. But nothing prepared me for my Lila. I knew right away, when I held her for the first time 5 minutes after she was born, that this kid was different. And since I just got to spend an entire week with her at Christmas, I realized a few things: one, no one likes a whiner and whiney-ness bugs the crap out of me. But when Lilian fusses, I find myself trying to figure out what she's trying to tell us, what she needs or wants. Even if she can't have it, I'd still like to know. Plus, she's still young enough that fussy = need so it's not like she's whining to be a brat (Well, maybe. Maybe she is a brat. But I'd still think it's cute).
Secondly, when I'm babysitting and the kids cry at bedtime, I walk away knowing they will calm down eventually and fall asleep. I know they are all right, that they will be fine. But when I put Lila down and see that lip quiver and those eyes get wide, it's all I can do to make it out the door. I listen hard and almost hold my breath, ready to call in the cavalry and rush to the crib to rescue her if she cries too long. I know she will quiet down and be in slumberland within two minutes - she always does and always is. But the cavalry and I are waiting, ponies ready and pistols drawn, should we be needed. Usually, though, we just back away quietly, glad that the horses' hooves didn't distract her in the 12 seconds it took her to fall asleep.
So yes, all kids are awesome and special. But my Lilabug is really something. She can "ba ba ba" and "da da da" with the best of them, and her laughter is the most wonderful sound. She can take 3 steps, although I'm sure it will be any day when 3 turns into 5 turns into 12 turns into oh-my-gawd she's walking for real. And then she'll talk for real, real words and real sentences. And then she'll start school and then there will be boys (or girls, or both, or whoever she wants). I tell her now that she should only ever be whoever she is right now on the inside because that is perfectly and wonderfully wonderful. That there is no way she has any original sin; she is pure blessing. And if anyone tells her otherwise, she should tell her Nnenna and I'll kick them in the shins.
I've been around a lot of kids in my life: cousins, the ones in church nurseries, kids I babysit and nanny for. And I've loved all (ok, nearly all) of them. But nothing prepared me for my Lila. I knew right away, when I held her for the first time 5 minutes after she was born, that this kid was different. And since I just got to spend an entire week with her at Christmas, I realized a few things: one, no one likes a whiner and whiney-ness bugs the crap out of me. But when Lilian fusses, I find myself trying to figure out what she's trying to tell us, what she needs or wants. Even if she can't have it, I'd still like to know. Plus, she's still young enough that fussy = need so it's not like she's whining to be a brat (Well, maybe. Maybe she is a brat. But I'd still think it's cute).
Secondly, when I'm babysitting and the kids cry at bedtime, I walk away knowing they will calm down eventually and fall asleep. I know they are all right, that they will be fine. But when I put Lila down and see that lip quiver and those eyes get wide, it's all I can do to make it out the door. I listen hard and almost hold my breath, ready to call in the cavalry and rush to the crib to rescue her if she cries too long. I know she will quiet down and be in slumberland within two minutes - she always does and always is. But the cavalry and I are waiting, ponies ready and pistols drawn, should we be needed. Usually, though, we just back away quietly, glad that the horses' hooves didn't distract her in the 12 seconds it took her to fall asleep.
I wish the whole "learning 'no'" didn't require enduring the whining but I will not have a brat for a daughter!
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