Child's Heart Meets Practicality and Cynicism

I have the greatest job in the world. I am the nanny of a precocious two-year-old. I have almost memorized the Dr. Suess A B C's book, learned a new language, and tapped into his unique style of playing that goes beyond building blocks. It is so fun to learn about so new a person, but I have discovered that in all the newness there isn't really anything new about the rudimentary fabric in the make-up of this child in comparison to any other child I have come to know. He is unique in so many aspects of his character and personality, but he has the same desires as every other kid: to be known and to call himself beloved. His brow furrows when I ask him to use his fingers to point to the thing he is trying to say with his mouth because I don't understand sometimes. He preciously calls out my name when my shoulder is closed to him when sitting side by side. He emphatically boasts upon facing his fears and discovering there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. He remembers and re-actualizes (even at such a young age) what he did for you that made him feel very important.
These are the very things that I love about being around children, which is, in short, the ultimate teacher for how to treat grown-ups. Desires don't change with time, we've just learned how to put them on hold due to our culture of cynicism, practicality, and too much disappointment. We forget that we want people to open their shoulder when they sit next to us, or encourage and affirm our steps to conquering the scary fronts in this world because we have been hurt enough to retreat into our own selves for our strength, or be co-dependent on others for our significance.
The "lesson" that I have been particularly attentive of recently has been the one of body language. I almost fell asleep during the little boy's half-hour science show but was awoken by his desire for me to be present with my eyes and body, being attentive to the same thing as him or even to watch him watch the show. When my back is to him in the kitchen, he tries to get my attention by calling my name as he sits on the counter and watches me cut fruit. Even if we aren't talking or playing, just sitting and looking at doggies walk by in the park, he is not content when I slouch. Right now he is so irresistibly cute that he knows he cannot be ignored, but what happens when he gets older and grown-ups will have normal "older-boy" expectations of him. To save ourselves from embarrassment, we learn to stop calling for attention like that, but we never stop wanting to call so as to be noticed, recognized, and to feel important, like ourselves are worth being noticed or turned towards.
So, we are tempted to be moral because adults like good children. Or we hate being moral because parents only like good children (or at least convey this message with their bodies and words)... and how deep is a love that is conditional? So turn your body, your attention, your eyes, your ears, and your words toward the people who are afraid to ask for it, because chances are... they want to, but are too embarrassed to admit that they want you to do that for them.