By Joanne Peterson

Once a week, I drive to West Seattle to the daycare center where my small grandson Adam stays while his mama works. It is fortunate that daycare is offered at my daughters place of employment, a nursing home; she sees Adam whenever she has a break during the day.

Last week, arriving mid-morning, I went directly to the baby room where Adam spends his day with several caregivers and several other babies.

I never know exactly what to expect when I open the nursery door. The babies are mostly close in age, so gaining skills seems fairly consistent, one infant to the next.

This time, I opened the door to find half a dozen babies sitting on the rug, bolt upright, like so many tiny wide-eyed Buddhas. From one week to the next, they had learned to sit up! They seemed amazed at their newfound talent.

I scooped up Adam and toted him down the hall, into the elevator and toward his mothers office. Along the way, I encountered several employees in the hallways. Hi, Adam! they said.

One employee, a nurse, said that she had visited Adam half an hour earlier when she took her break she went into the nursery to see my grandson! Another employee whipped out her cell phone and flipped it open. On the screen? Adams photo!

No, I am not delighted that my grandson goes to daycare at such a young age; I suppose if he and his mom were home all day, that wouldnt be perfect, either. And daycare might have some advantages I can tell he is going to be a social little guy.

As it is, both the baby and his mom are privileged to spend their days in the same building, with a number of people who care about them.

When I was Adams age, and for four years after that, I lived on a ranch in Yakima. Other than my older brother, I seldom saw another child. My grandparents lived on our property, and the family was my world.

A big event? My mother carrying me out into the orchards to take my father his lunch! Day care? I doubt the term existed. And when my own children were young, I did not work outside the home, so day care wasnt in our familys vocabulary.

Adam was at home sick this week, no doubt thanks to his days in the nursery. Several other babieshave been sick, too. His mom knows she might as well get used to childhood illnesses this year is only the beginning.

When I went to their house while he was sick, all I could do was cuddle him and feel helpless. (I dont think being a grandparent makes me wise.) Adam is well now, though, and so are the other babies. No more fevers. I suppose all their grandmothers feel the same relief I do.