Is It Possible To Overstate The Obvious?
I can admit that I am very biased when it comes to my daughters. I know that I have two of the most beautiful little girls, with the happiest dispositions, friendliest personalities, and the most loyal of friends to others. Each evening, before they go to bed, I tell them “I love you”. They get a huge hug. I tell them how proud of them I am (as well as any other compliment I can throw their way). This is not to say they are perfect, I know that they have their moments or as I call them, brain farts. But every night, they go to sleep knowing that they are loved and how special they are to me.
So it caught me off guard last week. It was one of those crazy move-move-move nights trying to cram everything into a two hour window. We stopped to get the girls something to eat quickly before heading to the school for the annual book fair. A woman who appeared to be in her late 80′s or more was dining with her daughters. As she left the restaurant, she walked by us, looked at me and said, “make sure you tell your children you love them, every day.”
The woman’s comment left me with an eerie feeilng kind of like when the old man in the original Friday the 13th movie warns the kids going to Crystal Lake. The difference was, that she was not warning me as much as I feel she was expressing to me a guilt that she may have been carrying. She was a very nice woman and she definitely came across as sincere with her request. Had she not loved her children? Had something happened that she was unable to make amends? Might she have never let her children know they were loved or even told them?
I assured her that I make sure that every day I tell my daughters that I love them. It is not just a motion that I make sure of that is carried out, a robotic “I love you” or a less than enthusiastic slight hug is easily picked up on by a young child.
This is an especially happy time of year as the girls anticipate Christmas. Wendy has gone over the edge already with HoHo Fever decorating. In fact, just two days ago, she officially hijacked the car radio to two radio stations playing Christmas songs before Thanksgiving has even occurred. But Christmas this year seems a bit odd in that there is not really much talk of Santa Claus as much as there is concentration on Mommy and Daddy.
Though I am certain that old woman will never get a chance to see this, I hope that when she left the restaurant, I left her with a feeling of certainty, I do love my daughters, and I let them know any and every chance that I get. Whether they are climbing all over me, or if I have them pinned to the floor tickling them (Madison has such an infectious tickle giggle), or in a calm daddy-hug, my “ting ting” or “bug” and “boo boo” know that they are loved unconditionally. As always, it is going to be a fun holiday season.