Wednesday, June 8, 2011

One day more...

Today is the last day with Baby. When I return in the fall, she will officially require a new nickname on the blog. I think one loses their Baby status when they turn two. Honestly, she kind of lost hers a long time ago. I have never really thought of her as a baby. She has too much zest and pizazz to be cooed at and coddled.

I will miss her. I will miss having her call from the other room, "Oh Ninny, where are you? T-ome on Ninny. Play togever!" Or having her there when I stub my toe, "Ninny you o-tay?" Or the precious moments when we walk back from the park and I whisper in her ear a secret, "I love you," I say. And she yells at the top of her lungs, "I WUV YOU!!"

Love between a Nanny and a child is a very peculiar thing. It is not the same love as family brings but love nonetheless. It is a love that is strong and real, but one that can allow us to one day go our separate ways, without permanent damage and longing. We are temporary fixtures in each other's lives. But just because our time together is temporary, does not dim the fact that the time we have already shared will never go away. These past two years are memories I will never lose. I've watched a life grow from a stationary bobble-head to a very mobile sass-a-frass.

I have spent more time with her in the past two years than anybody else. She is the only person who has any idea what my novel is actually about. Captivated audience or captive audience depending on who you ask, she will certainly go in the acknowledgment section.

I have had a huge influence in her life and likewise, she has had a huge influence in mine. She has taught me the meaning of patience. And I have taught her the importance of the imagination. Today at the park, in the midst of sweltering heat, I sat and watched her play for as long as she was content. This was me practicing patience. I asked her what she wanted to play, "Bubbles? Chalk? Do you want to go on the slide? Swings?" She ignored me. When I walked over to her, she held out her hand, her brown eyes wide and said, "Ooooh a rock!" Then she and the rock proceeded to play together.  Her imagination.

As our favorite song goes, "My imagination makes my wishes come true."

Nannying isn't a forever job. It isn't glamorous. It isn't always stimulating. But it is rewarding. And it is one of the few jobs where I can spend the whole day living inside of my imagination and sharing the beauty of make believe with a little girl.

I bid farewell for now--to Baby. But fortunately, my imagination is not going anywhere. Well except for on an epic adventure. Who knows what awaits me on the other side of the rabbit hole?

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