This morning, I asked my 5 year old son “what would you do if you could plan a perfect day?”

He smiled, not really sure why I was asking him, and threw the question back at me. “Hmm, well, I don’t know. What do you think?“

I told him I didn’t know. That he would have to tell me. It was his question to answer.

He thought about it for a minute more before responding to me with “well, I would give lots of hugs. I know that”.

It’s such a simple, pure answer…but, honestly? That sounds like it would be the perfect day, doesn’t it? My perfect day might be the same, one where I get lots of hugs.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? How his apparent definition of a “perfect” day would be to give lots of hugs, and mine would be to get lots of hugs?

Sounds like maybe we both need to just take a day off and do nothing but give each other lots of hugs.

I wish I could see life through his eyes, sometimes. I hope he seems the good in me, and that I’m not just…horrible. If he only ever sees me through his lens of innocence, I’ll be happy. I want nothing but to be the best version of myself for my children at all times.

But I know that often, I could probably do better. I feel like a failure more often than not. I make mistakes and I’m not always the most patient that I could be, I say “no” way too much…I honestly don’t know why they don’t hate me.

But it’s in these moments…the ones where I ask my son a question, and he shares just a little bit of his soul with me.

My sons perfect day would consist of him giving lots of hugs.

So that he can make others feel loved and happy. That’s him…but that’s also me. He’s learning that love and empathy and kindness from me. Because I’ve always emphasized those things, and exemplified them.

And if there’s nothing else in this world I can be proud of…I’m proud of that.

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