Why Children Love Me

             There are some people that children are naturally drawn to. These adults seem to know, intuitively, how to relate to children and get them to obey the rules. I am not gifted in this way. I remember being perturbed as a child by adults who would speak to me in strange tones of voice that they reserved specifically for children. I couldn't believe they didn't think I'd notice that they didn't sound this stupid all of the time,  but only when talking to me. It angered me, so I made a vow to never speak this way to kids. Instead, I use long words and constantly have to explain myself. I'm not very good with kids, but I've mulled it over and have come with the only plausible explanation for why kids sometimes sort of like me.

         Reason #1: While I prefer to think of myself as serious, I recognize that I can also be really, ridiculously goofy. I have been seen in public, on occasion, crying actual tears from laughing so hard. I suppose that this might be considered normal except that on such occasions I am, more often than not, the only one laughing and I may or may not be laughing at something that happened about a week ago. If I'm not laughing at something that happened last week, I may be laughing at something that I am about to say that I think is particularly funny. I should probably be embarrassed by this, but I do not care. I will continue to laugh, because I love laughing and sometimes my hysteria makes other people laugh as well.
                      I think that kids laugh at me mainly because I trip over my own feet, but also because I do funny voices for them.  

         Reason #2: As much as some people love frozen dinners, I love baking. Sadly it seems to be a dying art form in a world where break-and-bake cookies and McDonald's are the norm. Baking is the compilation of seemingly boring ingredients, such as flour, in a precise manner, so as to produce morsels of goodness. These morsels take many shapes—anything from circles to rectangles to squirrels. Yes, I have been known make squirrel-shaped cookies. Anyway, kids totally dig it when I bake. I often regret sharing my baked goods with children, since I have come to realize that children are dangerous enough without sugar. Usually my love of sharing baked goods outweighs the need to end this hyper cycle.  

         Reason #3: I make kids smarter and they secretly love this. Not too long ago, I explained amnesia to one of the eight year old boys I watch and even though his eyes looked glazed, I knew it was only out of excitement.              
       Me: “So...amnesia is when you have memory loss, but it's not to be confused with ambrosia. It's that weird dessert that my grandmother's friends bring to Thanksgiving and it's got fake cherries and coconut in it. Both of them should be avoided.”
          Honestly. What kind of a kid doesn't like this kind of an explanation? I'm pretty sure that he loved my amnesia/ambrosia comparison almost as much as he understood my explanation of consciousness. I tried to use dogs in my examples and to speak slowly but a few minutes later when I asked him if he understood what I was saying, he still shouted no. Maybe it'll click in a few years, right?

         Reason #4: I sing more than Snow White, but hopefully with less vibrato. Since most kids grow up listening to Renee Fleming and other classical singers of such fine caliber, I know that a spark of excitement ignites in them when they hear that I've been classically trained. Those raised eyebrows and dropped jaws are signs of appreciation for my vibrato and the high Cs I let slip on occasion. I don't need any verbal affirmation to know that they admire my trills and knowledge of show tunes. I just know.

         Reason #5 I lay down the law. I think that kids secretly like it when I say no. I, not so secretly, love saying no. This doesn't mean that I say no to absolutely everything, but I try to incorporate 'no' into almost every conversation I can. For instance:
          Kid: "What are we having for dinner?"
          Me: "No!..we are not having candy."
          This strategy allows me to both slip in a 'no' and bring a kid into utter confusion. Obviously a win-win situation.