Its amazing what children know sometimes. Though they can't articulate it, they are incredibly keen. They know when you are lying, when you are sad, when you are holding back anger (which they often respond to with heightened mischief). Equally they can be masters of charm, twinkling a little smile at just the right moment to save their necks. Beyond even this, sometimes even without their knowledge they can be in just the right place at just the right time.

There is one girl in particular, a little dark-haired girl with sparkling eyes and a button-nose whose warbling, two-year old voice chatters constantly and with conviction about things that would confound even the most cunning linguist. To these things we must respond with almost genuine interest and surprise, (enough enthusiasm can override their lie-detectors). However she has not always been this way. At a very young age (younger than her current 2 years) she was a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of a grown man. Suffering considerable trauma from this, she responded by withdrawing and becoming very dependent on her female caregivers (moreso than the average 1-2 year old). Slowly however, with close monitoring and supervised care she has been able to overcome this experience, emerging as a very social, bright and bubbly little girl. As a male my experience with her has been distinct, at first being very distant and hands-off, (although even during my trial visit last year i had the privelege of her allowing me to buckle her into her little lunch seat). In time though we have forged a relationship of silliness and nonsense that culminated in the following experience.

One day recently i was feeling a bit low, (a rarity for me in this environment,) and did not feel the usual vigor and excitement that accompanies exiting the side door to the play yard and descending into a mass of buzzing children. Shortly, the little girl with the button-nose approached me and for perhaps the first time lifted her arms up in the 'pick me up' gesture. For a short while we stood by the swingset, one arm holding her and the other pushing children interspersed with short bits of spanglish chatter. Now it wasn't often that i was solicited to be held by this girl and what happened next, albeit small, would mean the world. As we stood there in the morning sun she quietly pressed her head against me, nuzzling into my chest. At that moment i forgot anything that might have been bringing me down that morning. In fact i forgot most everything. It was one of those moments where suddenly the earth stops spinning and the universe holds its breath so as not to disturb the arresting purity of the experience. I too held my breath, but even when i decided that it was safe to breathe again she kept her head where it was. I was officially safe to her now and in letting me know that she was unwittingly blessing me with her innocent, tiny power.

I've taken a lesson from Indian thought and begun seeing the children i work with as little gods and goddesses. After all, children if anyone in this world are innocent and any unwanted behavior is surely their little body being inhabited by something that is not theirs, be it anger, obstinacy, deceit or disobedience. They embody certain things at certain times and i find that revering and respecting these things allows me to much more effectively work with them than when i consider them 'behavioral problems'. The truth is that children are not made of sugar, spice, puppy-dog tails or any of the above. Children are made of pure Love and when you get to feel that, even for three minutes in the play yard, your life will change just a little bit.