I've been at this for a long time. In grade six I was a rookie; for sure. By the time I was twenty-four, having lived independently for some years and employed as a respite caregiver for disabled children, I'd like to think that I had already learned a thing or two and could be trusted to function reasonably well with people's children.
It was right about then that an overly involved, overly-attentive-to-details mother instructed me very specifically on how to cook macaroni and cheese straight out of the box.
I believe that my tongue may still carry the imprint of my teeth.
I'm forty-one now, and I've been working on raising four children of my own for almost fifteen years now. Simultaneously, I've wiped and fed a trillion or more of other people's children.
Recently, a mother showed me how to change her offsprig from sweatpants into shorts. That there was no zipper and that they simply slid off or on.
I wonder how I've managed all these years.