“Does Our Mommy Think About Us?”
Grace was seven years old when she asked it.
One morning, while we sat at the kitchen table, she looked up and said:
“Daddy, does our mommy think about us?”
I set down my coffee and looked across the table at her. Then I answered as honestly as I could.
“I don’t know what she thinks, baby. But I know what I think. Every single morning.”
Grace tilted her head.
“What do you think, Daddy?”
I smiled.
“That you two are the best thing I ever did.”
Lily, who never liked being left out of any conversation, immediately spoke from behind her cereal bowl.
“Even when we’re being annoying?”
I laughed.
“Especially then.”
That became our thing. A small tradition that belonged only to us.
And as the years passed, we held on to it.
