Kids, how they grow

I was babysitting for my landlords' son tonight, for the first time since they returned from a year-long sabbatical in Norway. In a way, we kind of have to get reacquainted again, both because I haven't seen him in a year and because he has changed so much in that year. I guess that's a bit redundant; the fact that he's changed is really why the fact that he was gone matter so much in the first place. Well, that, plus I just missed having them around.

Spending time with Jacob always brings me to comparisons with my nephew, who is only 6 months younger. There are many similarities between them - both sensitive and sweet-natured, both at that stage of moving from affectionate little kids to boys who hold you a little at a distance. It's cute to see them play together, and to see them be excited but not always wanting to show it at the times they get to visit. The differences are also interesting - Jacob's more intellectual, Kwame more rough and tumble; my sister more strict in discipline but more permissive in what Kwame gets to watch on TV - and the ways the boys respond to different situations as a result. And of course, you don't see a black boy of Ghanian descent and a white boy of Norwegian descent playing together nearly as often as you'd like.

I'm biased; I think my nephew is the best boy ever. :-) But I think I actually know Jacob better, because I've been here watching him grow up, whereas I've been living away from Kwame all his life. Jacob asked me tonight how long I'd been sitting for him, and it's been ever since he was born. After he asked me the question, I started having all these flashback moments: to rocking and singing him to sleep; to distracting him in the kitchen so his parents could leave from the front door; to the long, rambling stories that kids tell from their daily experience and their imagination; to fixing dinner and baking muffins and all these other memories in between. I remember how his room was setup when he was a baby; and when he finally started sleeping in a bed but still needed someone to stay with him to get to sleep, all the clever maneuvering I had to do to leave the room without waking him up once he was finally out.

In another 9 years he'll be a grown man, which is both strange and sad to imagine. I don't know if I'll still be in this apartment, in this state or even in the States by that time. He's the second child I've watched grow like this - the first being my youngest sister, who is now an adult and living away from home for the first time, here with me. The hard part is that of course you want them to grow up and be good, strong people in their own right; but I can't help remembering all those other stages and still wishing for those little kids who trusted me with their worlds.