As a preschool teacher I always worked with the four-year-olds. They’re a delightful little species, and I loved watching the pathways in their brains connect and the subsequent developmental markers.

Three-year-olds were fun and came with a guarantee that they would become the four-year-olds I adored. I would accept them in a pinch.

I avoided the twos. They seemed so easily confused and went from delight to heartbreak in the time it took to pick up a crayon another had set down. I enjoyed short conversations with them, however. I was interested in what they chose to express at their first forays with conversation.

Babies feared me and I found them duller than my mother’s kitchen knives. Their constant, vague complaining was agitating. It was in everybody’s best interest to keep our distance from each other.

Naturally, when I became pregnant after 10 years of marriage, I worried about being a mother to some poor misguided soul who thought I was her mother. I worried I’d end up on the front page of the Tribune under a horrific headline.

Side note: I demanded a girl from the Universe and the Universe said no. It took me a bit to give up pretty dresses and dolls for unrelenting noise and sports, which is basically the same thing. I found I could love a small boy with a power I didn’t recognize.

I returned my rose splashed stroller and chose a grey, utilitarian model.

My son turned out to be the most content and personable baby that ever graced the planet. As a lifelong Beatles fanatic, I was pleased that he had entered the world with a Beatles haircut and large eyes. My friend was amused and said, “You made your own Paul!”

There were times I worried I’d be far less of a mother than he deserved. What if he stops loving me? What if I make a mistake that ruins his life? I tried not to think about it.

I wondered what he would say when we could communicate fully. The time came when I thought he might be able to express a full thought and I, rather casually, decided to ask if he remembered the angels.

Without a pause he fashioned two sentences that are not verbatim here but were clearly understood at the time and etched deeply in my heart. “Yes,” he said. “I told them I had to be with you. So, they sent me.”