1 Mother 2 Another

We recently went on a church overnight retreat, and I have to say that Maddie was the belle of the ball.  For all her separation anxiety, she’s getting pretty relaxed about being held by other people; as long as I’m within eyeshot, she’s content to be passed around, removing eyeglasses and squeezing noses on pretty much anybody.
 
And when I say pretty much anybody, I mean pretty much anybody except our pastor.



For some reason, she’s got a distinct and unreasonable fear of our church leader.  Which is unfortunate for him, since he’s got a distinct and unreasonable love of babies.  I’m talking a wholehearted obsession with ‘em: the snatch-one-from-a-mother’s-arms, smell-the-top-of-a-baby’s-head-in-passing, go-for-an-extra-snuggle-during-communion type of obsession.
 
So he’s taking Madeleine’s rejection a bit personally.  And I can understand; it’s hard to see a happy, smiling baby go from lap to lap with nary a protest, only to have her turn wide-eyed with fear when she lands in your arms.  Our pastor’s picked her up from behind, before she can see who is holding her, and the cries start before she even turns around.  Once this weekend she didn’t even have to be in his arms to let the waterworks start: she was sitting in her feeding chair for lunch when he walked up, squatted down a couple feet away, and said respectfully, “Hi Maddie!  Are you enjoying your prunes?”  She banged her head against the table in an effort to hide from the scary man.  Who wouldn’t take that a teeny bit personally?
 
I can say this for our pastor, though – he doesn’t give up.  He held her half a dozen times over twenty-four hours, and always came back the next time as optimistic as the first.  It’s hard not to, though: she spent all weekend smiling happily at everyone, waving hello, chatting during quiet time, and contentedly chewing on various people’s zippers or sweaters.  A sight like that will make hope spring in even the most jaded heart, and he’s determined to win her over.
 
In all fairness, there was one magical moment between Maddie and our pastor.  Just before her lunch and nap, I was heading up the hallway with her.  He stopped us, saying, “Looks like it’s time for me to hold her!”  I had severe doubts, since she was tired and hungry, but wished him bonne chance and handed her over.  Miraculously, she simply drooped contentedly against his chest, cheek resting on his neck, for several minutes.  Before realizing who he was, of course, and cranking it up.
 
At the end of the weekend, he and I were laughing about all the times he tried unsuccessfully to hold her.  “There was that one time, though, when she was fine,” he said dreamily, “and that made it all worth it.”
 
I gotta say, I know exactly what he means.