They say it takes a village to raise a child. There is a vague but very present set of struggles to being "the nanny" in that village. There are certainly weeks on end, and especially when he was younger, that I logged more waking time with the fella than his parents. That's not to say that his parents aren't golden. They really, truly are. I believe with my all that, like the greater majority of parents, they are doing their best. And best can vastly differ in appearance. I am forever grateful for the trust they have in me and the respect that I've earned in my role as their precious person's caregiver. What I mean to say is that I see a lot, I hear a lot (much that I could do without, har har) but most of all, I feel a lot for this little human.I will never have as much invested in this child as his parents do, duh, but I'd be crazy not to hope for him; to worry about the impact I'm having on his development; to wonder the trigger and true remedies to his current rotten behavior. I do my best to always respect their wants and rules for him, even when I question the significance. It takes grace, conscious thought, and often creativity. Even with the healthiest relationship and a decent line of communication with them, the dynamic he and I share will be unlike that with his parents. The habits we practice all week can be lost in a weekend, and follow through is faultlessly tough as power is shifted in the evening and agendas vary. It's a strange and undefined place to be, but I suppose it is what it is. It's been a challenging week in that village. I'm backing away slowly from that frustration, though, as I understand there must be a separate set of challenges wrapped in employing a nanny and even for him looking to three adult figures in the home. Ultimately, I'm proud that as ill-defined as my place feels, it all comes down to the certainty that this little boy has a team of hearts loving and looking after him. Goodness, I am blessed to watch him grow.