Spending a week with both of my grandchildren was sweet. The memories of momming for a couple of decades came flooding back, as I watched my daughters coax their children to sleep and eat, and steer them from the ubiquitous dangers inherent in an environment that includes glass and rocks. I find it astonishing that most children survive toddlerhood. 

Some things about parenting are the same. Volcano is a game that seems to bubble up without much help from grown ups. I watched as Olly pranced from pillows, to the couch, then to the steps, in her retreat from a fiery floor. Her mother played the same imaginary game thirty years ago, believing that you must not touch the bare linoleum, or you risk singed feet. I remember wondering if other self respecting mothers allowed couch cushions sprawled across the living room. Our grandson is one, and finds peek a boo irresistible. How is it that this volley with disappearing has endured for generations? 

But there were differences as well. Water bottles are standard issue, in a way that was absent in the eighties. Sippy cups have evolved, to the point that they are spill proof, and have no toxic plastic. Pouches, too, thwart the best efforts of children to dump applesauce on the carpet. 

Yet with all the trappings of cups, and jammies, and peanut butter sandwiches cut into triangles, shepherding your child from  infancy to adulthood is as fraught as it ever was. My heart goes out to my daughters who are giving their best selves to this marathon of interrupted sleep and tantrums. 

The way Someone has cared for them. Plus He will never disappear. 

"He who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, He who keeps Israel

shall neither slumber nor sleep." Psalm 121