I love the love inside of a child. Where else do we find such genuine, unprecedented, untainted, trusting love?
My sad days are starting to change. And I owe many of my smiles to my kids.
Like when I stand in the kitchen and see Maddi make herself a cup of apple juice. She pours one-fourth juice into her Sesame Street Elmo cup and then waltzes to the refrigerator tap to add three-fourths water. What a gem! She pays attention to her mama’s formula and mimics it exactly.
Balancing her cup in both hands she heads to the table, takes a sip and says, “Mmm-mmm! My tummy says ‘Mmm!’ This is delicious!”
Prancing around in her pink gymnastics leotard she tells Jordan, “Be nice, Jo-dan! I’m your big sissy!”
“Sissy!” Jordan replies, “I'm the big brother, Mad-lynn”
Maddi sees me watching her and blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it and she says, "Put one in your heart." I blow a kiss back and she says, "I put one in my heart."
And so the conversation continues back and forth. And I find myself enthralled. I love their language. I love their interaction. I love their lives. I love that they teach me how to love.
