Quinn had a late nap today and has been impossible to get to sleep tonight. Just a little while ago, when answering his 42nd call for assistance, I decided to lay down with him for a little while. As we snuggled, he reached for my hair, like he always does. “Is that all the hair you have?” he asked.
“Yes, honey. Mommy got a haircut today. But I made sure they left enough hair for my little boy to hold on to.”
Quinn was quiet a moment. “I’m sad that your hair is gone,” he said. Then, suddenly, “Did you get a lollipop at your haircut?”
“No,” I answered. “Chloe didn’t get a lollipop, either.” (Suddenly feeling gypped… these were $60 haircuts, after all!)
“Oh. But WE always get lollipops after our haircuts.”
Yep. Then, hugging him tighter and thinking how precious he is to me, my mind inadvertently jumped to the memory of a horrible news story involving a 3-yr-old. I prayed under my breath, inaudibly (I thought), “Dear God, please erase that thought.”
Quinn joined in, “Dear God, please erase that mean world and color a nice one!”