My husband looked at our twelve year old daughter the other night and had one of those parenting moments. You know the ones, where you look at your offspring and see them not only as your child, but as their own separate individual. You see this person you’ve known, for what feels like forever, and catch a glimpse of not only their infinite potential but also their future adulthood.
My normally teasing husband, struck by how quickly our little girl is growing up, said with serious sincerity, “Trinity, you are really beautiful.”
“I know,” she matter of factly replied in a voice full of quiet confidence.
Caught unprepared by this response, my husband laughed and asked, “Oh really, and how do you know that?”
Trinity looked up from her book and answered, “Mom told me.”
They listen, Gentle Reader, our children listen to what we say to them. Even when it looks like they’re ignoring us or tuning us out. They hear our words, the things we tell them, the words we call them, and they believe us, for better or for worse.
I only hope that my words have always been for better.