I’ve had to learn unconditional love the hard way:
from my children.
As the lone early riser in the family, I am grateful the nine-year-old is now tall enough to reach the plates in the cupboard and skilled enough to make cinnamon toast by himself (with the help of chopsticks for extracting hot bread) so he can ward off hunger until the rest of us emerge from slumber.
Inherent to his toast-making is the application of Murphy’s Law: The butter lid always ends up butter side down.
We’ve discussed this.
And, every time, the results are the same.
There are certain things that annoy me like no other: pen-clickers, lip-smackers, ice-crunchers, chair-kickers, finger-lickers…
We are related to some of them. My husband tells me this is an endearing quality – a loveable quirk.
I have been thus far unmoved to agree with him.
The butter lid hasn’t annoyed me as much as has the inconvenience of cleaning the butter off of the counter.
I’ve explained this preventive step to the nine-year-old.
To no avail.
Today this was the post toast-making scene.
And today – for the first time – I smiled, and shook my head and said to myself, “I love that boy.”
Some of us are slower to learn unconditional love than others.
Children, gratefully, are persistent and patient teachers.
Copyright 2013 © Christian Caine. All rights reserved.