All the Children of the World

A week or so ago there was an end-of-year event at my children’s school. Naturally, I was there along with a gaggle of other family members for the many students. These are my neighbors and I know many of them – some better than others, but mostly familiar faces. Along with the students in the school, there were other kids – cousins and siblings and friends – of many ages.

At one point one of the moms there was trying to juggle both her young baby and taking a picture of her graduating pre-schooler, so I reached out and scooped up the baby. She was quite appreciative, though also a little surprised; most people seem to have an aversion to handling the children of strangers in such a casual manner. (Especially men, but that’s a topic for another day.)

I just laughed and bounced her on one arm, and quipped: “All the children of this town are my children.” I ended up carrying that baby around for the next hour to give the mom a break, and I was as thrilled to have a cute, cooing thing with me as she was for the rest. It was a wonderful moment of kinship with my neighbors.

I wasn’t quite accurate, though. I said “all the children of this town are my children,” but that’s not quite accurate.

All the children of the world are my children.

Yes, you have a direct responsibility to the care and feeding of your own direct offspring or those under your direct guardianship. But the future of the human race is yours to steward as well.

Would you throw trash out your car window? I hope not. But if you wouldn’t, don’t throw garbage ideas into the minds of the next generation – that’s a far more impactful act.

And I go farther. When I walk around my neighborhood park, as I do frequently, I usually end up picking up whatever few scraps of litter I might happen to see and dropping them into the trash bin on my way around. Did I throw that litter there? Nope. Is anyone making me pick it up? Of course not.

Is it my responsibility? Absolutely.

And so is the care of all the children of the world.

Here’s what that doesn’t mean: it doesn’t mean I’m a busybody. I don’t tell other parents how to parent unless they ask (or read this blog, which amounts to the same thing). I don’t concern myself with making sure kids are being raised the “right” way, any more than I go knocking on my neighbors’ doors demanding that they go out and pick up litter.

But I do my part, as much as I can. I do not turn away. I don’t shrug and say “Well, that’s not my kid.” Because I’d be lying – that is my kid. They all are.

I do not expect others to be this way. That’s one of my universal principles, to not impose my value system on others. So none of my own beliefs come with judgment if others don’t agree with them; they’re a set of rules for me only.

But this is an important one – important enough to write down, and important enough to encourage others to do it too, even if I won’t judge you if you don’t. Look after these kids. Get their stuck kites down out of trees, cook extra food when you make dinner in case the neighborhood horde comes through your yard, and take your turn holding the baby. This is the world, and you can make it better.