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Though I’ve always had protective maternal instincts towards my younger siblings (half of whom are young enough to be my own kids, e.g., my youngest sister is 21 years my junior), and I feel confident in my ability to love and protect a child, I always secretly wondered and worried whether I’d have the guts to be a “mom” when it came right down to it. You know: that look, the tone of voice, the crossed arms that make kids sit up and pay attention. I’ve always been a pushover when it comes to other people’s kids. Until today.
A lunchtime musing : I (Dan) did some reading on the stages of early childhood development this weekend and was shocked at how unlike big humans the little humans are. It’s easy to forget how undeveloped these little lifeforms really are. Imagine:
Okay, so you’re a wee baby, and there you are, not really hungry and trying to get some sleep. Not much is going on, when all of the sudden this thing shoots at your face. It startles you. You wait, anticipating its return, forget that it was ever even there, and eventually return to waiting to sleep. It flies at you again and again, this horrible monster, depriving you of sleep! What can be the cause of all of this?
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