Super Fine

As my kids get older my new strategy for bath time is to put them
in swimsuits so they can still take a bath together.  Skirting back and
forth between the bathroom and kitchen I check on them while starting
dinner. Stirring vegetable beef soup I call out, "Maddi! Jordan! Are
you okay?"

"Yes!" Comes the reply in unison and then Jordan adds, "Good."

"Good? How good?" I ask to make sure I can hear both voices, my assurance they are okay for sixty more seconds.

"100," Maddi tells me as I walk back into the bathroom.

"What does 100 mean?" I ask her.

"We're super fine," she says.

Super fine. I love that. I want to be super fine.

I want to be super fine with my day. Super fine with my kids.
Super fine in my friendships. Super fine with God. Super fine with my
work. Super fine with my insecurities. Super fine with how I share and
give to others who need a gift only I can give. Super fine with setting boundaries. Super fine with
my weaknesses because this means I am finally accepting myself as I am.

Then I can copy my son and daughter and say, "I am good. I am 100. I am super fine."