I am a self-professed child hater. OK, maybe hater is too strong a word. Kids are fine, as long as they go away after an hour or so. That's usually my time limit for restraining myself from popping off their little heads.
If only I was as hard-hearted as I'd like to be.
I admit it, OK? I've a soft spot for my cousin's kids. I'm getting ready to send an email to my "brother-in-law" practically demanding to see my "niece" when I'm home for Spring Break. And then there's my "nephew" and his chubby little body.
What is it about these kids that makes me bond to them?
With Hadley, I think it was that he was born three months too early. The day after he was born, I dreamt I was protecting him from some unsee-able evil force. Seeing that fragile little baby when he was three days old just reinforced the need to protect, to keep him safe from all boogie-men. Bonding to Jenika and Lakyn is a natural extension. As an ecologist, I might argue kin recognition -- in not having children of my own, I bond to my kinspeople's children.
With Jamie, it's being friends with her mom since we were in our early teens. It's hearing that she told her mom when she was 2 or 3, "I love when my Aunty Dawn reads to me." It's the way her face lights up when she sees me. It's that unconditional love, no matter what I look like.
With Cylis, it's his mom being one of my soul sisters. It's those toothless grins he gives to me and not to his sperm donor, the cooing and giggling he shares with me. It's that this four month old baby knows me well enough and trusts me enough that when he wakes up crying, he stops when he sees me even though he hasn't yet seen his mother. He trusts me in that moment to keep him safe.
When did I become such a softie?
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