“Are we there yet?”
“Daddy, she hit me!”
Oh the joys of traveling with the kiddos.
Sisters fascinate me. They aggravate each other one minute and love on one another the next. My brother and I threw punches as kids. The girls slay each other with verbal blows. Clearly, the ride the beach was a rough one.
No matter how rough the ride, though, I love these kids with every fiber of my being. Growing up, I used to ask my mom, “Who’s your favorite?” Her unwavering answer: “I love you both the same.” I always thought that was a cop-out, but now I get it. With Rylie, my eldest step-daughter, a cerebral connection exists that blows my mind. She’s 8, about to be 9, and pontificates on topics of heaven, forgiveness, and gratitude. Our little thinker. Presley, at 6 is the quintessential performer. Our connection is one of the spirit. She reminds me of myself as a kid in so many ways: the ADD, her need for attention, the “why’s?”, her desire to make everyone around her laugh. Our little feeler.
In my twenties, the thought of marriage and kids sent me running or self-sabotoging. I thought marriage meant the end of your freedom and everlasting boredom. I’m never bored, and the freedom that comes from being completely authentic with another human being day in and day out is incredible. I am truly blessed.