Sam Speaks

A few days ago, on the way home from preschool, Matilda was in a great mood. "DA!" she yelled.

"No, Tidda," Sam said. "Dad is at work."

"DADA!" Matilda insisted.

"Tidda," Sam said, turning to face her. "Dad is at work. He's helping people be better. When all of the people are better he will come home."

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This morning we were waiting in our car in the preschool parking lot waiting for the school doors to open. I noticed that Sam had some gunk on his face. I urged him to lick his finger and wipe it off but he was not getting it. We were both laughing. Finally I licked my thumb, reached back there, and scrubbed his face clean.

His smile was gone in an instant. Slowly, with no emotion, he said, "That was gross."

Very true, my son.

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Yesterday I walked by Sam's room where he and Matilda were playing. I saw Matilda sitting on the floor. Sam was crouched next to her with his arm around her shoulders. "Sweetheart," he whispered. "Sweetheart, I love you. I love you, Tidda. You're so nice."

I couldn't be any happier than I am right now with these two kids.