These Chilluns, They Make Me Feel Old

It’s no secret among her friends, and now among you that Agent L does love a baby. That Agent L found when she was in her early thirties, that while she would (probably) never do such a thing, she suddenly GOT why women snatch babies from train platforms. She got it. A part of my problem is I’ve always been very good with babies.

I do love a baby. They smell good, and they’re basically your friend who had one too many shots at Mothers.

I got through college as a nanny, particularly through twins that were my next door neighbors.

I watched em from when they were four months old to when they were four.

It was, in my entire career, the sweetest time I’ve ever had working.

We had really lovely long afternoons together. I would have food network on for adult voices, and they would climb all over me, when they could climb, and it was lovely. We spent quite a lot of time in their backyard, looking at trees.

I loved that time of my life, and now, at the ripe old age of 34, realizing that I will never have kids, I cherish it all the more.

Today I spent some time with my nana, a miserable old lady who acts but exactly like a four year old most of the time.

I ran away to Jackie and Jim’s for a good half hour, and saw Elizabeth for the first time since she was four years old.

“Cool tattoo,” she said at one point.

“Okay, I know no one likes to hear stories of themselves when they were babies, so you just have to excuse me, cause I’ve been back in the country for 48 hours and I’ve been through hell and I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you stories of when you were a baby. Do you know what your first word was?”


“Nope. That was your second word. Your first word was actually ‘tattoo.’ Cause when you were a year and a half old, you were obsessed with that tattoo and I kept badgering you- ‘tattoo! tattoo!’ until you spit it out. At about a year and a half exactly, you came out with ‘tattoo!’ Sorry, Jackie.”

We all laughed.

I just kept looking at her. She’s fifteen and a small woman now.

And yet I can’t stop the urge to gather her in my arms and read Goodnight Moon to her and tell her it’ll be okay.

The youth today. How dare they grow up so fast?


This entry was posted in Baltimore. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to These Chilluns, They Make Me Feel Old

  1. Jackie says:

    We forgive you! Tattoo is a perfectly fine first word.

  2. Alan says:

    . . after all the crap we get to see the soft under-belly – this must be what makes ‘L’ tick on the streets, you can’t love and stand by and do nothing in the face of injustice and ugliness.

  3. The “ripe old” age of 34 is a matter of perspective. You may be very surprised at what lies in front of you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s