"I hate cinnamon rolls! I love flowers."

 My wee "little children" (15 months ago)!

"I hate cinnamon rolls! I love flowers." This is what I heard a darling little girl say while climbing on her playground's gym. "Your turn now!" she boldly added, summoning her friend to go next. Capturing that moment in my heart, I carried on walking past them, reminded of the sweet simplicity of childhood... or at least, how it should be in an ideal world.

Hearkening back to when my own children were that little; seeing where they are now and who they've become, I can't help but feel incredibly privileged, humbled even, to have been able to play such a (big) part of something so miraculous. Watching one's kids grow up is a sobering, beautiful thing. The responsibility gives life that extra meaning and oomph, if you will, to keep going when things get tough...if not for oneself...for them. I'm thankful to have had that chance.

While I don't talk much about my own kids, that doesn't mean they aren't central to my life. In fact being a father has been one of my greatest joys. Protecting their privacy, especially when younger, was always tantamount to me. And now, seeing them more engaged in the world around them, playing their own central part and becoming young adults, makes me know in an even deeper sense, just how much it was all so worth it. I'm sure most parents think this of their own, but I can honestly say that I believe the world is a better place with these three in it.

I could go on on but I think you get the picture. :) Loving others is what it's all about and loving one's children grows you in ways one can't imagine. My only wish would be to be able to bundle them up once more, bounce them on my knee, read them bedtime stories, and roll around with them on the floor like we used to, laughing until we cried...except now they're all too grown up and I'm not as sprightly as I used to be. ...Well, um, I suppose that is actually more than one wish. :)