Three sweet stories from the last 48 hours:
I always try to put a note in E’s lunchbox. Something simple like: “Mom, Dad, S & T love E” with a picture of a smiley face or heart.
Yesterday, hours after lunch (i.e. I have no idea what prompted this), E disappeared into her room with paper, scissors and markers, then re-emerged holding a note for me. It said: “Dad, E, S & T love Mom”.
She told me I could keep it to read during lunch.
How awesome is that from a 5 year old?
S is fine now, but was very sick Sunday evening, throwing up twice. After the first round, during which her favorite doll Angie miraculously managed to remain clean, I helped S take a bath and then moved her into a different room on a portable mattress. When I went to get Angie for her, as moral support for the next round, S refused to let me bring her in the room. She knew she was going to get sick again, and didn’t want Angie to get dirty. She continued to refuse, even when I reminded her Angie was washable.
Anyone who has seen S and Angie together knows how much love there is there, and how much comfort S would have derived from snuggling her dolly. To add some visual evidence, here’s an attempt of me trying to photograph Angie (something we do for all the favorites, in case they ever get lost and we need visuals to obtain replacements) when S was about 18 months old.
S was so attached to Angie that I never could get a picture without S’ hand.
Still, on Sunday, S refused to bring Angie into the bed for the doll’s own protection. How’s that for unselfish love from a 4 year old?
With S and T recovering from illnesses yesterday, we spent most of the day in bed, venturing only as far as our swingset in the late afternoon. At one point, I began swinging with T on my lap and the little guy (who LOVES to swing) started yelling, “No. No!” When I stopped the swing to see what was wrong, he took both his baby hands and used them to brush back my hair; he had been upset that the wind had blown it across my face while we were swinging. Such a sweet moment, having my toddler trying to help me, and using those chubby little fingers to clumsily try to brush the hair out of my eyes.
I could tell other stories. We have meltdowns and tantrums, just like everybody else. Kids are going to have “passionate moments”; that’s just part of it.
But this sweetness is the bulk of childhood. And the next time someone sighs and says to me, “Kids these days…”, I’m going to smile and say:
“I know…aren’t they fantastic?!”