Everybody’s Somebody’s Baby
Each of us started as somebody’s baby. I’m not so naive as to think that every one of us was totally wanted, cooed over, encouraged and taken good care of — but sometimes when I drive down the street, I like to look at the different people and think of each one as having once been someone’s baby. I picture them as infants, warming the world with their smiles. It’s a useful tool for me when a person acts mean or crabby. “You were once someone’s baby, like a bright and shiny penny,” I try and tell myself. It makes it easier for me to tolerate and to forgive thoughtlessness. And it’s especially helpful for me to look kindly when I pass a homeless person holding a cardboard sign, a drug addict or even someone who has committed a serious crime. You were someone’s baby. You were once somebody’s sweet baby.