As a mom of a toddler, I hear all kinds of creative/downright bizarre stories on a daily basis. C regales us with tales about what happened at school, about the bear and pink kitty that supposedly lurk outside, and how we all live in boat in a hole in the bottom of the sea. It all makes for a very entertaining conversation, and makes me think that perhaps we have a budding novelist in our midst. Just the other day, though, C spontaneously and very sincerely said, "I love you, Mommy," and gave me a big kiss. (Hello, Mommy puddle.)
Whenever the going gets tough, and it invariably does: back-to-back client meetings, crazy-tight deadlines, a tiff with my husband about why the laundry remains unfolded (again), or a potty-training accident in the middle of the kitchen floor (again), I'm working on remembering that sweet moment. C's sweet, heartfelt words somehow help me to keep everything in perspective. Maybe the "terrible two's" aren't so terrible after all.