I must apologize to you dear Grant because I, your nanny of the past 6 months (Which is more than half your life) have been fooling you.

When you are ready for your bottle, and I have it warming on the countertop, I flip you around, and twist my arm behind my back to pull it out of the mug, and test the temperature. Do you know what happens when you catch a glimpse of that thing and it’s not ready for you yet? Something along the lines of when I smell fresh bacon, waffles, and coffee on a Saturday morning. We both have an I need that now reaction.

When you’re finishing your bottle, and I see it nearing the end I know you’re going to be just a bit upset, and I’m sorry little one but there’s not much I can do about that. So as I sit you up to burp I set the bottle out of sight. Otherwise you’ll twist and turn staring at the bottle which torments you with it’s emptiness. And I do this for you Grant, because you don’t quite understand the concept of emptiness yet. So until then I’ll keep the bottle hidden.

When you’re eating your peas, and you’re confused as to why they’re not as sweet as your much preferred banana, I smile, and reassure you that peas are in fact delicious too. You’re right Grant. Fruit is much more fun than veggies. But I trick you, because the greens are just as important.

When Ryder needs help buttoning his pants after the potty I sit you down with a toy as distraction. I sneakily grinch-like tiptoe out of the room to help your brother, and rush back hopefully before you notice I’m gone. Because when I leave your side you get pretty sad, and that’s alright because it’s sort of sweet, and I’m all about quality time.

I’ve tricked you into thinking that books are just as cool as gadgets and toys, because in the real world G, they can be! So I show you all the colorful cardboard books in the playroom. Because within every new book, lies a new adventure.

After I shot a basket with Caleb by the basketball hoop I took a peak back to see you sitting in the grass. You reached up to your mouth with a fistfull of grass, and I ran over to you faster than you could open your mouth. That’s where I convinced you that Paci was a better option to munch on. You can eat dirt when you’re older kid. But for right now let’s just stick to baby food.

When I’m trying to get you to crawl I hop down in front of you, and make you think it’s the greatest thing on earth to be on your belly. Because I want you to grow strong, and get moving places you want to go. You little backwards scooter you.

When I took you to the doctor, and they took your temperature, you looked up at me with surprised, uncertain eyes. And I once again smiled at you in reassurance that everything was fine. And you believed me! I don’t know how you believed me on that one. But you did. And I got to thinking about trust in that patient room. As you wriggled in your diaper on the crinkly paper, set on tearing it apart. We tend to trust the ones who care for us, the ones who are by our side convincing us it’ll all be ok. Putting our trust in someone is a pretty big deal, and we should make sure we’re putting our trust in the right people. Otherwise we’re not going to learn. We’re not going to grow, and get stronger.

Thanks little G, for teaching me that life lesson.

After Caleb gets off the bus from school we cut across the yard chit chatting about the weather, and step inside the house. He and I have an afternoon routine. He quickly sheds his shoes once inside, as he peers over at the kitchen table where there’s a snack I’ve prepared for him. But before he can grab a bite, I flip him around, and say “Gimme hugs.” to which he quickly responds. Maybe he’s alright with it, maybe he’s trying to get his snack out of it. Either way is fine by me.

I sit across from him while he eats his snack eager to hear about his day, and luckily for me he’s usually up for chatting. Our conversations go a little like this…

• Caleb: Where’s Ryder?
• Me: At school
• Caleb: Where’s mommy?
• Me: She’s working
• Caleb: Where’s daddy?
• Me: He’s working too
• Caleb: Playing soccer?
• Me: Yep
• Caleb: Where’s Brandon?
• Me: He’s at work
• Caleb: Where’s Brandon’s daddy?
• Me: Probably working too
• Caleb: Where’s Bingley?
• Me: He’s sleeping in his bed
• Caleb: Where are you?
• Me: I’m at work!
• Caleb: *Eyes wide, then giggles* No you’re not! You’re at home!

That boy, he’s right. I’m right at home.

After he finishes his snack, and we’ve decided that everyone is where they usually are in the afternoons we determine if it’s any sort of decent weather. And if it is we head outside to play.

• Caleb: Play soccer with me?
• Me: Always

I stand by the gate, while he dribbles the ball. And I can tell you I’m so embarassed to play goalie with him, because this kid is good. Nearly never misses a shot. Once he’s bored of me trying he yells out “Get me!” and I come after him so we can dribble the soccer ball back and forth through the grass.

It’s a pretty sweet gig yeah? Being a Nanny.

Today I sat on the playroom floor, and I started reading the pout pout fish to Ryder, and Grant. He’s a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, and he spreads the dreary wearies all over the place. It’s one of those repetitive books, with the same lines every other page to teach kids recognition. So this pout pout fish, every other page he goes Blub.. Bluub.. Bluuuuuub. And you better believe I exaggerate those Blubs. Giving out belly tickles to Ryder, then Grant, then Ryder again. And they eat it up those boys.

Mr. Fish says to clam I’m a pout pout fish with a pout pout face, and I spread the dreary wearies all over the place. Then their sweet little faces get real expectant because they know what’s coming. Belly tickles with every Blub.. Bluuub.. Bluuuuuub.

Sillies, and tickles, and smiles, and giggles. Playgrounds, and swings, and soccer, and wriggles. Who would have known all those things make me feel right at home.

This morning, we missed the bus.

It was to arrive late for the two hour delay, and we missed it. I was granted extra time, and we missed it. Within the ten minute window I opened the front door to peer out the storm door just in case the bus showed up early. Caleb was ready to go, with his back pack on, but I found myself in between burping Grant after his bottle, and putting on my shoes so I was ready to run out. Apparently the bus in the morning is different from the afternoon bus so when a bus stopped at the end of the driveway that I didn’t recognize, I took too long to ponder the fact that it indeed was his bus. “Come on Caleb!” I shouted, and grabbed his hand to catch it, but the bus drove off. “Well that’s that.” I thought, looking down at Ryder who was staring back at me like “What’s going on? What’s the rush?”

“We’ve got to get you dressed silly boy.” I said, while he sat in his jammies.

It was a beautiful frigid 15 degree morning in Charlotte, and I would have never enjoyed that freezing air had I not played tetris with car seats in my car this morning. So many buckles. So many boys. Once I rounded them up I hopped in the driver’s seat to head to Caleb’s school much to the boys confusion. Their faces read “Where are you taking us?” and “Who cares? We’re going on an adventure!” All at the same time.

So we get to the school and I have a plan. Grant in the car seat on my left arm, Ryder holding my right hand. Then I filled Caleb in. “Caleb, you hold Ryder’s hand, and you don’t let it go until we’re inside.” Across the parking lot and into the front office I signed Caleb in and headed to his classroom to drop him off. “We made it.” I told Ryder. “Almost half an hour later, and we’re headed back home!” Then Ryder scrunched his face, and laughed. As always when I say something silly to him.

Back at the house around lunchtime I realized some things…

It’s official. All this time, and I’ve finally developed my boy vocabulary. Including all dialects of vroom sounds and rocket take offs. It’s taken some practice, but I’d like to believe the boys are impressed. It’s nearly impossible to play with little boys unless you’re able to produce such sounds, and nearly impossible to entertain babies for prolonged periods of time without staying animated.

I’ve also noticed that I am unable to feed Grant with out making odd shapes with my mouth. He opens his mouth for the next bite, and I can’t help but create an O with my own mouth. He takes the bite and then pauses. “Uh oh” I’ll think to myself. “He’s realized it’s carrots.” Well, let’s be honest sometimes I think it to myself, and sometimes I mention it to Ryder who is much too preoccupied with his own lunch.

While we’re on the topic of Ryder and his lunch… You know how they say when you get married sometimes you eat more because you’re mirroring your husband? Well, I’ve found that when I’m around kids I want to eat the things they’re eating. When I was a kid’s church teacher I’d go around pouring them Goldfish, and then be like “Oh what’s this? An extra dixie cup? Don’t mind if I do…” Don’t even get me started on those squeezable applesauce packs. I like applesauce too. But that’s ok, I’ll skip the convenience and buy myself a giant jug of it to put in my own containers. I’m an adult now, I should be eating my applesauce with a spoon. Right?

Quickly trying to get a smile back on Grant’s face rather than a sad look of betrayal I smile wide, and say “It’s gooood Grant, nom nom nom nom.” In the babiest of baby voices. He ponders my words, his eyes gazing at the expressions on my face that he’s still learning. Then.. a smile, and maybe even a coo if I’m lucky. Orange drool is spilling out but that’s alright, he’s happy. Now he’s ready to try another bite. Some days we go on like this the entire feeding. Some days he’s into it, and let’s face it some days not even we adults want to eat our peas and carrots.

There are three little words that hit me with an irresistable desire to satisfy. “Natalie, get me.” After hearing those words for the first time I checked over my shoulder and saw Caleb’s face lit up with the widest smile, his knees bent in preparation to be chased.

With much amusement I started toward him, and from there it was all out mayhem. Caleb’s surprise sent him careening around the corner expelling all sorts of excited shrieks. We went on like this for a few go arounds when I decided to turn back and surprise him in the opposite direction. “BOO!” I shouted. And before he could make a run for it I scooped him up and tossed him onto the couch, pillows falling behind him as he rolled and squirmed his way off.

Then… those words again. “Natalie, get me!”

Because for a child, catching them once, or twice, or seven to twenty times is simply never enough.

So we continued for a while, running around the house. Me chasing Caleb, three year old Ryder chasing me, and baby Grant on his play mat observing the whole spectacle. After a few more circles around the kitchen and living room, Caleb would get tossed on one couch, I’d turn to grab Ryder, toss him into a bed of pillows, and then make a run for it so they could chase me. Very quickly after this day I learned to never wear socks when two little boys are chasing you. I took a sharp left turn from the entryway into the living room, and there my balance failed me. I laid there on the floor clutching my leg which later produced a baseball sized bruise. Since when do I bruise like that?

My agony was quickly forgotten when two bubbly boys ran over to my rescue. “Oh wait,” I realized. They’re boys. They ran over not to help me up, but to climb all over me, and laugh hysterically at my fall as if I had put on the greatest show for them. And you know… they made that embarassing tumble all the better.

This happened almost three months ago. Three months and I still remember how sweet it was. In that short amount of time baby Grant has started eating solids, preparing himself to crawl, and growing too much week by week.

I’ve developed these three little emotional attachments that I think about when it’s quiet at home.. All weekend, when it seems like forever since I’ve seen them.. And pretty much whenever somone talks to me about children. These three attachments.. they’re the little boys I nanny. Most days I’m left with sidewalk chalk on my boots, and mashed peas on my pants. I come home telling B stories about my new favorite book to read Eggbert the Slightly Cracked Egg, who travels the world painting famous cracked things like the liberty bell, and volcanos and such.

Last week my lunch buddy was making silly faces at me with his peanut butter and honey sandwich. Today, I played peek-a-boo for I don’t even know how long, because baby giggles make time stand still. Baby hands reaching out for your face melt your heart. They make it way too hard to ever stop.

This job… It’s packed with the sweetest moments I’ve ever been a part of.