Oh so well, but not at all

Each night, after the babies are all sleeping deeply in their beds, I tiptoe in and watch them slumber. I look at their little noses. Chubby cheeks. Pinkish purple eyelids. I make sure they are breathing. That their toes are covered by their favorite blankets.

And I think, at this moment, I know them best. I know their likes and dislikes. I know when they need a nap. A snack. A cuddle.

But, my omnipotent knowledge of them is fleeting. One day I will sneak into their rooms and recognize their faces but not really know them at all.

One day, I won't be the one they cry for when they are hurt, lonely, scared. One day, very soon, they will roll their eyes at me and call their friends. Soon after that they will barely glance at me as they skip out the door for their girlfriends' houses.

I know the babies that they are. I don't know the men they will become.

My greatest hope is that during this fleeting time I can make enough of an impression on them that even when they disregard me, the morals I have instilled in them linger.

I won't know their deepest secrets. They won't tell me. They will, odds are, hide them from me and confide in one another. I won't know their deepest fears. They will, odds are, hide them from everyone.

But I pray nightly that they know no matter the secret, I love them. And no matter the fear, I'll do everything in my power to keep that fear a fear and not a reality.