Chapter 12

This incident happened in 1993, after Steven was born. We're still living at Fort Meade, Maryland. Brian was gone, again. I don't remember where. He would come for a few weeks and then was off doing Army things. The four years we were stationed at Fort Meade, Brian was gone three and half. Although not all at once; in and out.

Within a month after we moved to Fort Meade, in 1990, I had gotten a job as an assistant director of one of the military's largest day care centers. I worked there during this incident. My hours were supposedly 6:30 to 3:00. Some of the caregiving staff wanted to be at the center early and get their rooms ready to welcome children. For them to be in the building I, being the opening administrator, needed to be present. I opened the building around 5:30.

The next problem was the child to staff ratio needed to be met at all times, no exceptions. A different ratio was required depending on the age of the children in each room. By the end of the day, that was difficult, and I couldn't go home on time if the ratios weren't met in the rooms. I, more times than not, ended up staying until the center closed at 6:30 or later depending on a late child pickup. (The center director would also stay, but there needed to be two adults with a child.) I'd go into a room and help take care of the children.

On this day, I had stayed to cover a room. I hurried home with Steven, who was maybe four months old at the time. Steven attended the day care center where I worked. I needed to fix dinner, so handed Steven to Greg, who was now fifteen years old and said, "Please watch your brother while I fix dinner."

Greg's reply, "Sure, Mom."

In my mind, I had it covered. I was incorrect.

From the kitchen I heard all sorts of noises and none of them sounded like Greg watching the baby. I rushed into the living room. "This sounds like a football game. You're supposed to be watching your brother."

With all the innocence in the world, Greg responded, "We are." He held Steven tucked under his arm like a running back. "He's the football."

Doing my best not to blow all my child development training at this moment, I said, "He's a baby, not a football."

Greg grinned. "We know. He's having fun."

"But, but, but..." I gave up and went back to the kitchen, having no clue how to handle this situation.

During dinner, we did have a discussion, basically one sided, about the importance of keeping a baby safe.

It fell on deaf ears.

My second Steven as a baby story, for now, until I remember another one.

We're still stationed at Fort Meade and Brian is, still, off doing Army things.

Steven was about seven months old. We're attending one of Jeff's youth football games. Steven was a little fussy, so I carried him along the sidelines as I watched the game.

Greg walked up. "Mom, I know he's got to be heavy, let me carry him for a while."

On a side note, Steven weighed nine pounds and fourteen ounces at birth and was six weeks premature. He only grew. Today he's over six feet five inches tall.

I was eager to hand Steven over and proud Greg offered to help.

Almost fifteen minutes later, I glanced at Greg and the numerous young female teenagers fussing over Steven and Greg, I realized Greg didn't offer to help for concern for me but was using Steven to attract girls.

I called Greg over and took Steven. "You can't use your baby brother as a babe catcher."

Greg gave me an impish grin. "Mom, it works."

I just shook my head and walked away with Steven.

I feel this needs a better ending, but that's it. LOL