Tea time

The unconditional love that a child gives you is at once wonderful and humbling. There's a lot of comfort to be found in coming home from a bad day to find eager faces at the window and little arms held up for cuddles. On the other hand, part of me worries that my bad mood will taint them in some way. I don't want such perfect innocents to ever know what sadness is, even at a remove. So I plaster on a smile, and I read stories and sing nursery rhymes, and wait for these simple pleasures to take the rough edges off my stressed out mood. It works, to an extent. In fact, I suspect I get much more from our interactions than they do. At the age of two they barely know me from Adam, so I feel privileged that they allow me to be part of their games. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to drinking imaginary tea from a pink plastic beauty and the beast tea cup. She put imaginary sugar in, and I can't stick sugar in tea, but I'll drink it anyway.