In her shoes

Today I found myself in Tali's shoes. Figuratively and momentarily literally.

Tali is two and two-year-olds fall down a lot. She probably finds herself on the floor at least five times a day. Recently she has started accompanying each fall with a very loud, very fake whine/cry. My response usually goes something like this, "You're okay. Come on, get up. Don't whine. Mommy doesn't like whining." Such concern and tenderness, I know.

Today the tables were turned. Tali was waiting patiently for me by her car door. I came out of the house with several bags in my hands and tripped on a very small shoe. (I probably dropped it there.) I landed on the garage floor with my bags all around me. I looked up at Tali and she looked SO concerned. She opened her mouth and started to say, "Are you okay?" But before she could finish, she burst into tears. Then she ran over to me and asked again, "Are you okay?" I told her I was fine. (I was - just in case you were worried.)

Then she gave me a hug and a kiss and another hug and another kiss and asked twice more if I was okay.

All the tenderness hit me like a ton of bricks and I started to tear up a bit. But I held it in because if she saw me cry at that moment she may have lost it totally. Sometimes I think moms wonder if all their work and love goes unnoticed. It doesn't. Our kids love us.