The wisdom of an immature mind

My daughter Natalie is a 4-year-old genius.  (Doesn’t she look great in my glasses?) She’s like a grown-up, intelligent woman in a little tiny body . . . assuming that the grown-up, intelligent woman pees her pants a lot and screams like she’s being axe-murdered when her socks “feel funny.”  Anyway.  I was looking through some old abandoned drafts and I found this comment that Natalie made to me one morning.  It wasn’t just any morning.  It was one of those mornings where you’ve decided to give up before the sun even rises.  I think I actually crawled back into bed and told her that I’d decided to stay in bed all day and hide.  She bellowed with great sincerity:  “Nooooo.  We love you.  We want you to get up every day.”  I have to admit, it made me feel better, and I (mostly) recovered and survived the day.

This past Sunday, I arrived at church in a tizzy because I don’t care if we had church at 6:45 p.m., we would still be scrambling to get out the door on time.  It’s pathetic.  And in this case, I was pretty convinced that our family was hopeless, and that I was destined to be the lone, unappreciated crusader to get my family out the door and to church on time without missing any major articles of clothing.  I was annoyed.  During sacrament meeting, the hymns and prayers and sacrament began to cool me down (as they are designed to do), and at some point Natalie leaned over and whispered to Matt, “Daddies don’t have diamonds in their rings because they don’t make dinner.”

I love that girl.

That’s all.  Carry on.

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