I recently visited my only grandson, ten-month-old Adam, at his daycare in the building where his mom works. 

What with various family illnesses and scheduling conflicts, I hadn’t seen him in three weeks. How would he have changed?
 
I hurried to the “baby room” to claim him.  Would he recognize me? I opened the door and immediately saw him sitting on the carpet playing with a toy.  “Hi, Adam,” I said, heading toward him.  And he gazed at me with absolutely no expression.  (Not the best moment in my day!) 

Still, he’s young; three weeks had passed…  Then he smiled and put out his arms for me to pick him up.

A busy little guy who speeds confidently along on hands and knees has replaced the infant who sat under the Christmas tree and looked out in puzzlement. 

He sets a course and takes off. He encounters an obstacle and pulls himself up to work his way around it.  His mom says when he first started to crawl around their house, he came upon Kiera, the family dog, sprawled on the floor, asleep. 

Adam climbed right over her, and she never stirred.  Since the dog is a 170-pound mastiff, I have to admit that my first thought was to be glad Kiera didn’t have a bad dream while Adam was crossing over her. (I try not to dwell on that.)

If babies stopped to think about it, they’d be amazed at the life they are living, the skills they are learning, and the people who are caring for them.  Observing young Adam, I consider that he has nothing to worry about. 

Babies as fortunate as Adam learned early on that they can count on their parents to take care of them:  abundant food, fresh diapers, clean clothing and comfortable cribs in cozy houses. 

People tote them around, rock them to sleep, amuse them and soothe them.  Life is sweet when a baby lives in an environment of peace and plenty. 

Last week, watching Adam crawl down a carpeted hallway in his brown corduroy overalls, I suddenly thought about babies with none of his advantages. 

Babies in Haiti, their parents dead or missing, all comforts gone, their already doubtful futures shaken into oblivion.  I thought of babies in the slums of Kibera, in Nairobi, thirsty, hungry, ill with AIDS.  And babies in our own cities - living in poverty with unemployed parents, homeless and hungry. 

What an amazement, that some infants are born into comfort and ever-unfolding delights—while others enter into lives of enormous hardship.

Pure luck?
I do not know why Adam was born to a middle-class couple in the United States of America, any more than I know why other babies are born to people with no freedom, no jobs, no money, no strength, nothing substantial to offer an infant.

I hurried after my grandson and scooped him up, kissing his warm neck, feeling incredibly thankful that he was born into my life.