It's a little after six am on a Saturday morning as I type. Today I was supposed to sleep late. To my husband, sleeping in until six is sleeping half the day away, but to me sleeping late means staying in bed after my work day usually starts around seven am.
My dogs pounced on me at 4:30 and bounced all around until I let them out for their morning business. This happens every day. Every friggin day. On week days, once they come back inside they go back to bed and hide under the covers until my alarm goes off. Then we wrestle on the bed, play hide and seek, and I rub their bellies for ten or fifteen minutes. Every day. At some point, Dixie or Oscar will sneak up beside me and kiss my cheek or curl up in my lap and I'll have to scratch behind their ears and tell them how amazing they are. I wish I had done this with my kids. Not scratching behind the ears or rubbing the belly, but telling them how amazing they are. I told my kids I love them and they know it, but I didn't always tell them how amazing they are and I certainly didn't tell them every day.
Imagine a world where children were told every day that they are amazing and that they are loved. That every day started out with cuddles and laughter.
I got lucky. Really lucky. My kids are grown and are amazing people. I hope that they know that-even if I didn't tell them.
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