Asking for Forgiveness

I am so blessed to be a parent. I learn something everyday! Not because I'm awesome and always get it right the first time, or that I apply all the knowledgeable information I read in parenting books. No. I learn so much from my 3 year old!

The other day Ava spilled her water on the floor in the living room, having an evening snack and movie. She quietly walked into the kitchen and with the biggest eyes and softest voice I heard...

"Daddy, do you forgive me?"

We were confused at first, and then she added the bit about the water spill.

Another instance (because there can never be just one), Ava had ripped the gas bill to shreds and stuffed it in a little box that she laid on the table (there really wasn't a need to freak out because of the internet these days and how everything is online, but I just like to hold paper in my hands while I still can). As soon as I opened the box I heard...

"Do you forgive me?"

My heart melted both times. I searched my memory bank trying to recall where she heard those sweet words. Where has she seen it? From whom did she learn it? Unfortunately, and regrettably, I am a poor teacher. I am still trying to say "I'm sorry." My "sorry's" are drawn out with no eye contact and maybe the words are being said through gritted teeth more often that not. Very rarely do I add, "Do you forgive me?"!

She learned all about asking forgiveness from her father. Not because he sat her down one day and said this is going to be our lesson for today. No. He taught her by the way he lives, the way he loves her mother, and the way he loves her. Her father is quick to say "I'm sorry" without gritting or looking away. She has a great model of the Gospel and Christ's love for us and others.

We are both so blessed to have such and amazing man of God in our lives. And you will be comforted to know that my "sorry's" aren't as torturous as they once were. Little children aren't the only ones who are teachable.

Mirror Mirror

Ava takes any chance she can to look at herself in a mirror (a little something she learned from her father).  The other day while sitting on the potty (with no success) she asks for my hand mirror. After a few minutes of talking to herself, she gets tired of holding the mirror and in slow motion I see the mirror fall to the floor. I unfortunately was too slow (shocking, I know) and the mirror shattered. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that is was 7 years bad luck, so I just told her 7 minutes (what child really has a concept of time anyway). Meanwhile I am still serving my 42 year-bad-luck sentence. If my parents were as brilliant as me… I would have been “free” 41 years 364 days 23 hours and 18 minutes ago.