My grandson is fourteen months old and I am his primary caregiver while his parents struggle to keep their carreer’s on track but would really rather be where I am, home with their child. I am watching daily the first outbursts of passion, when he is angry over something he desperatley wants but I cannot let him have for his safety or overall well being. His anger is so fresh and real and heartfelt and my job is to contain it, to distract it, to molify it without breaking that spirit that has just burst forth all alive and full of innocent passion. I am humbeld to be witnessing this and careful to be handling it as best I possibly can because this is his life and will shape so much that will come after and I want him to be all that he possibly can so I must get it right. At the end of the day he is blissfully babbeling and playing oblivious to all that has happened in the day and I am completley exhausted.