I'm old. I'm having a hard time facing it, but sometimes it just comes in your mailbox. No, no, not the AARP mailers - those come for my husband. The graduation announcements.
I've received two this year. One from college and one from a high school. What's the big deal, you ask? Oh, yeah, I babysat these boys. Changed their diapers.
I remember the older of the two, you had to lay on the floor of his room until he fell asleep. And every time you'd try to sneak out, just when you thought he was asleep, he'd ask where you were going. Oh, um, nowhere, just shifting. His favorite show was The Price is Right. He always knew when Bob Barker was going to give away a car and he'd dance around the room, shouting "NEW CAR NEW CAR NEW CAR" over and over and over again, until Bob actually would announce it.
The younger one was another one of my favorites. He couldn't have been even eighteen months old when I started taking care of him, and I watched him grow up in front of my eyes. I once took care of him overnight, and remember trying to take a shower while I parked him in front of the TV for a minute - the quickest shower ever, but he still wandered in. It was not the last time I've ever begged a small person for just a minute, ONE minute.
His baby brother was the littlest person I ever cared for, until my own children - he was probably less than a week old. It couldn't have been for more than an hour or two, as he was nursing, and I remember standing outside their house, rocking and bouncing and jostling and singing, while I waited for his parents and he wailed and wailed. It was a tactic that I later put to good use with my daughter.
The problem is that I still see them as little people, and for them to have aged as much as they have, it seems that I should have aged too, but I don't know when that would have happened. Because I'm still 22, right?