On Friday morning, ahead of the hustle and bustle of getting out the door and to preschool, I sat on the floor as my daughter wrapped me up in a blanket.
“You are a gift,” she whispered to me.
To her, swaddling me in a blanket was a hilarious game. She tossed the soft white fabric around my body until it covered my back, arms, and head. Then she’d tip-toe around me, surveying her work.
“You are a gift,” she whispered again, this time followed by a giggle.
To me, her unintended affirmation was a gift. I doubt my daughter had any idea how powerful her words were. I was just her silly mama, pretending to get wrapped up like a present.
The rest of the day, I carried her sweet little whisper with me. I am a gift. The idea made me more tender with myself, more grateful for all I could offer to the world.