the feeling's mutual.

It seems silly really. Only two days have expired since I saw her last. And yet, all morning I've been anxious to see her. All day I've been waiting to get to five o clock when I was due to arrive. I duly distracted myself, and when 4:30 came I turned into a frenzy and considered taking cabs and had to get there as soon as possible. I wondered about the fastest routes, sighed over a laboring North ave bus until finally when I got off the bus I felt relaxed and excited.

I walked up the steps and peered into the window. She wasn't there. She must be having dinner. My heart fell. I entered and greeted her father and sister who invited me to watch television with them but I wanted nothing more than to burst through the door and interrupt her supper so I could see her little face.

Finally, she realized I was here. She heard the door open, she heard my voice. She wouldn't take any more food, she wanted to see me. They said it was alright so I opened the door. She looked up and seemed to take a while to fully recognize me. Then she immediately wanted out, and I was so happy. I picked her up and she was happy to be in my arms. She made noises that I mimicked, then we laughed. And then she sweetly let her head rest on my shoulder and held me, and I have never been so loved by a child in all of my experiences.

She raised her head and looked up at me, and patted my chest and I patted hers and said, "Squish (my nickname for her)."

And then it was back to nestling on my shoulder and I could not have been happier. And strangely, she could not have been happier.

I have always loved the children I cared for to some degree, some more than others, and some liked me too, but none has loved me the way she does. And I have never loved a kid this much.

Before, to get me here on a daily basis, I was disgruntled. I was put out. I was annoyed. Now, I cannot stand to miss a day, to not see her. I have often come by just to visit on my day off. Sometimes I go out of my way to see her even though I will see her the next day.

When I have to share myself with her sister, I am frustrated. Her sister, who once fascinated me with her ways, now annoys me supremely. I had a similar beginning with her sister, but it was far less joyous. As a baby, she was a big heavy blob that watched the world in dour earnestness. She began to loosen up a little when she walked and talked, but that was almost seven months after I'd been taking care of her. She was a terribly boring baby, one that I felt needed a lot of prodding to make sure she developed normally.

Six months with the Squish have been unparalled. She is very observant, but she is also playful, cheerful, focused but also open to things. If she wants something she will get it, no matter what. She will make you get it for her if she can't reach it herself. With no words and just the flailing of her arms and her annoyed noises, I can usually figure out what it is, but if I can't, I can usually distract her with something else.

I've always said that I've had my fair share of child rearing, almost to the point that if I somehow didn't have children, I wouldn't feel as if I missed much. I had no idea these little beings could love you back before they reach the age where they learn how to love. I had no idea that they could show love before that age where they use it against you.

I had no idea that I could feel that kind of love for a baby that wasn't mine. I panic when I don't hear her breathing on the monitor, I once woke her from a nap because I peeked in and she was sleeping on her stomach, today when she was taken away from me for bed, she cried and a part of me wanted to cry too.