Babies. Even in full meltdown they are so pink and perfect. Their little gummy mouths, that screwed up face, the creases, everything perfect - to a casual observer that is. To the child's parents that same cry tugs at your heartstrings and your self doubt. Tired, hungry, dirty, sick; whatever it is you and only you are responsible for fixing it. The physical demands of 24 hour on call are exhausting. Still, for the most part the problems are relatively uncomplicated and as I got to hold my friend's little man today I looked back on the days as a mum to a new born with great fondness. Time and hormones may have a lot to do with this. I'm pretty sure she isn't looking forward to the teenage years with quite the same degree of fondness (despite my obvious efforts to paint a rosy picture - ok not so much) They need to invent the equivalent of a baby brain to dull the equivalent anguish of parenting a teen. Articulate, opinionated, idealistic they may be but pink and perfect they are not. On the other hand you don't have to deal with their body fluids and they can put themselves to bed. There are some advantages if only that I will never be left in any doubt about what's wrong ...
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