I volunteer at a hospital.  One where there is many children.  Mostly children.  I don’t think I’m supposed to name the place specifically.  So I won’t.  But you get the point.

I mention this for two reasons.  One is to give context to the stories here. The second is to point out that when I die I want the words, “Here lies Adrienne--she was able to get cranky infants to sleep” carved on my tombstone.  In Garamond 48 pt font.

Yesterday I was sent in to an eight-month-old’s room with the instructions, “Here’s the baby, Adrienne!” chirped from the relentlessly energetic child-life specialist.  I looked at the baby.  The baby looked at me and thought I was the funniest thing she had ever seen. 

I have this effect on babies.  I could seriously be an apprentice on Super Nanny, I am so good.  I do not say this to brag. Some people can fix cars.  Some people can play the piano.  I can’t do either of those, but I can make other people’s children happy. 

I wish I had known this was my one, true, God-given talent in life before I spend 11 years studying theology.  I have a much harder time making theology students happy (unless they have babies).

Anyway, after an hour at laughing at me (Breathing!  So Funny!  Moving around!  Comic Gold!), the baby got really tired out and, thus, cranky.  So after asking her “sitter” (whom I believe was a nurse’s assistant) if I could pick the baby up, I proceeded to squat-press 22 pounds of wiggling eight-month old for the next 74 minutes.  As my arms were going numb and my ears deaf from the crankiness, I finally gave up and started invoking the deity.  “Please GOD let the CHILD just FALL asleep, I mean would it BOTHER you JESUS to HELP just a . . .”

Just then the resident walked in.  Now, this particular hospital where I volunteer might have a teaching affiliation with a certain school that might be an ivy league.  Maybe.  And the resident may have attended said institution.  Perhaps this should have impressed me.  But the resident smirked and said, “Resorting to prayer?  No need.  Here, hand her to me.  I’ll show you how they taught us to do it at Harvard.” So I gave him her mistress-of-crank and I think everyone on the floor was impressed by the power of her vocal chords.  The resident’s face melted, the windows shattered and the television turned itself on and off 14 times.  He handed the baby back to me.

“I’ll come back later,” he said.