You see a baby in a stroller, cooing and gurgling, having a grand old time in the moment needing so little for their amusement, like playing with their feet. Who needs a mobile when your tootsies are available.
Babies are happy…content, committed to self-care. Napping when needed, having mini meals throughout the day.
They are also good-natured, never minding being changed even in public, grinning as if to say, “Yeah, was feelin a little damp there, so good goin.”
I always stop sidling up to a carriage, peeking inside. Yesterday I met Saul in just his Pampers, very Gandhiesque, his bald head matching his diaper.
I guess when you come right down to it, all babies look and act like Mr. Gandhi in his loin cloth chanting, be the change you want to see, or at least, make sure you get changed so you don’t offend anybody.
They’re tiny teachers, simple souls not yet tainted by life’s twists and turns, happy just to be, growing quickly like wise, little weeds.
Next time I see Saul, he’ll be sitting up looking out slapping his knee thinking, to think I missed all this snoozing.
He’ll then graduate from his bottle to a plastic baggie of Cherios he’ll munch while cheerfully studying the scenery.
He’ll remind me to HALT, a 12 Step (and baby) acronym that asks…are you…hungry, angry, lonely or tired?