On Wednesday of this week, my eight year old approached me with her favorite t-shirt and shorts in hand. "I want to wear these to Ella's party on Saturday so you need to hurry up and wash them," she said. She plans ahead. She knows me (the laundry cycle can be long) and she's learned to adapt. She loves me anyway.
On Friday, I picked the kids up from school wearing an olive green shirt, some black capri sweats that sometimes double as pajama bottoms and my Converse sneakers. Before even saying hello, Anna looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "So," she stated, "I take it you weren't planning to be seen in public today." It makes me laugh when, at the age of ten, she can state exactly what I'm thinking. On the bright side, I must normally look better, since she seemed to think it was out of the ordinary.
After Anna's direct statement, Ella piped up and said, "Mom, you look like you're ten." Not twenty-nine. Not thirty-nine. Not "A Ten". Just Ten. Apparently, this is the ultimate compliment. She still sees me through her child-like rose-colored glasses. She's the family diplomat - always coming to my defense. I love that she's a peacemaker. I love that she gets along. I love that her glass is always half-full.
Today, Samuel attended Ella's 7th Birthday Party. Willingly. I love the fact that even though he's a teenager with a shoe size approaching that of Yao Ming's, he still has a tender heart. He's still not too cool to eat a pink cupcake and love his little sister.
Thank you, God, for these wonderful blessings.