The Catholic Writers Guild

I’ve never considered myself terribly good with kids. While it is true that I come from a good sized, homeschooled family, I am near the bottom of the line and, therefore, less experienced with children. Little humans can be difficult to deal with or understand, and patience is always necessary. Though I knew this and understood my weaknesses in child-care, the knowledge did not keep me from taking on a babysitting job with our next-door neighbors.

Living, as we do, in the middle of nowhere – half an hour to the nearest town either north or south – job opportunities for a student without a license were nonexistent. The farm kept me busy, but to make a little money would be gratifying. When asked to babysit two toddlers at a good hourly wage, I was all eagerness to take the job.

My two charges were a boy of four, Felix, and a girl of three, Madeline. They were polite when the mother first introduced me and explained how I would be in charge for a couple of hours. We could go and play on the swings, dig out toys from the bins, or take a little walk around the pretty, riverfront acreage. Both the children and I were shy at first, and I was probably the dullest babysitter they had known. Those first, wintry months we spent together were the hardest as snow piled up to incredible heights and temperatures dipped to startling degrees. Outdoor time was brief when not altogether impossible.

Late March and early April brought the great change of spring. At last, we were out in the fine weather, and I took longer walks with the kids. There were so many things to see and do outside while the leaves sprouted on the trees and ducklings appeared on the lazy river.

One sunny afternoon, sitting contentedly under a riverside tree’s shade, I considered how thick and mysterious the underbrush was in that area.

“Hey guys,” I said, “we should build a fort here. This place is perfect!”

Never have I seen such a dull, incomprehensive look from two children. They could not understand when I tried to explain in words how a tree fort – or any fort – worked. Yes, it was like a house, but just for playing in and made of sticks. No, it did not have a TV in it, nor any technology. Most important of all, it was rather pointless and would never be as solid as a real house.

Having given what explanation I could, I decided to jump into construction and show the children what a fort was. It took no time at all for them to understand what I was doing when the sticks began to form make-shift walls under the leafy roof. In no time, the construction became a game, and we did not need a reason to build the fort.

Felix objected to leaving when it was time. Both he and Madeline made me promise we would go back to the fort next time I babysat. And that’s exactly what we did.

My babysitting continued through spring until the first weeks of summer. At that time, I graduated high school and ‘real’ job-hunting began. June 21^st was my first day working at a local coffee-shop where I quickly took on full-time hours. Now and then scheduling was unusual and I would find a day in the week that was open for my babysitting, but my time was scheduled more and more until there was no opportunity.

I am due to head off to college this fall, so time with Felix and Madeline is decidedly – and regretfully – over. My experience with them has seasoned me somewhat in the art of child-care; if that was all I gained, that would have been an achievement. However, there was more.

A couple of weeks ago, a year after our first fort-building, I caught a short visit with Felix and Madeline’s parents. Near the end, Randy, the father, told me in childlike, excited tones, how I must go and see the fort which I had begun. Having realized I was not coming back, the children pestered the parents until they went and played with them in the fort. Now, Randy told me, they had made it a real fort, complete with big logs that only Dad could lift, and its magical sense of needless fun flourished.

Fellow artists, my experience with the fort is a thought-provoking image. When we reach an audience, we are given an important task of feeding and kindling imaginations. I had a few hours, spread over multiple weeks, to plant the awe and wonder which now grows in a family. With your writing you are given a similar power and commission. We must plant seeds for the imagination and build those frivolous stick castles!

Copyright 2022, Maggie Rosario