Whenever I am wondering to myself whether Stella is ready to do something on her own, I think about when I was 9. My brother was born 3 days after I turned 9, and I learned a ton about taking care of babies from him. I clearly remember being left in charge for brief spells, like when my mother needed to run out and get a gallon of milk. I also clearly remember our nervous teenage babysitter: she was anxious about taking care of the baby, and he could tell. He fussed in her arms, but I knew how to settle him. I remember feeling competent.
So I say, Yes, Stella, you can walk to the candy shop by yourself.
BUT! Tonight at dinner my mother disputed this memory. “I wouldn’t have done that!” she exclaimed.
I think she must be mistaken, you guys. I think she has lived in a world where 9yos don’t take care of babies for so long that she has forgotten about telling her very own 9yo to take care of a baby.
Or maybe I’m just delusional. One of the two.
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