Rocking chair.

When it’s naptime at my nanny home, we have a routine. The boy and I read a book then I pretty much say, “peace out” and he closes his eyes and is asleep.

If only it was that easy for me every night. Sheesh.

The little girl is 2. So she grabs her pacy and her blankie and crawls up into the rocking chair. I still don’t know why she insists on sitting there first, but it works for us. I pick her up, and she lays her head on my shoulder. I sit down in the chair, put my feet up on the rocking ottaman and we rock.

I cross my legs at the ankle and her feet slide and rest on my calves. As she settles down, she usually tells me a few stories, through the pacy, none of which I understand but all of which seem to be highly important for me to know.

And we rock.

After a few minutes, she quiets and begins to push against my calves with her little feet. Almost as if she wants to rock herself.

I laughed yesterday. I had noticed before, she always does it. But for some reason yesterday the whole experience grabbed my attention.

Why in the WORLD does this child think she needs to worry about the rocking? Hello, young one. I have got this under control. I’m 29 years old. I can rock a baby to sleep. In fact, what made me laugh was the idea that she thought she was being helpful. I wanted to offer to her that we switch jobs. If she is so into rocking, how about I take the nap?

At what age do we start to believe that we must be self-sufficient? When do we stop trusting that the one rocking us is going to rock us to sleep? Why can’t she just enjoy resting?

Why do I feel like I have to be self-sufficient? When did I stop trusting that the One holding me couldn’t bring me peace?

Why can’t I just enjoy resting?

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