Recently, one of my children became quiet and sad when they learned we’d donated an old stainless steel water bottle of theirs. When I say old, I mean we got it when they were two years old. We took this child on a solo trip to town one afternoon, stopping by the thrift store to see if it may still be there. After all, we had not realized this kiddo had cared that much and I wanted to make it right. Alas, the water bottle was not on the shelves, which resulted in a stoic presentation-turned-thorough sob fest once they climbed back in the car. I crawled into the back seat for some cuddles, which turned into a little therapy session about the moments when we miss our old life, and that we should never feel bad about crying, because feelings are in fact a tunnel and we are in fact welcome to move through them. A few minutes later, the same child cheered up in time to correct me for being insensitive toward their dad. I love my kids.
2022
No Comments