we teach our children the way 
we think
the world should be
we show them the way 
we believe
the world could be

we teach our children to be curious.
we teach them kindness and gentleness.
we tell them of their own innate goodness.
we teach our children to pay attention:
the call of a bird, a dog barking, the moon;
we teach them patience and acceptance.
we teach our children that all their feelings are welcome, 
it’s safe here, you are loved. 
we say to them, this is a beautiful place, isn’t it? 
look at the sun my love, did you know when it rises here
it sets in Thailand? 
listen to the sound of the snow crunching under your feet
squish the mud with your fingers
trace your name in the sand
listen. did you hear that?
it’s the sound of the wind
a train
a helicopter.
we let time stand still and we exist in that moment only,
with them.
we play, we laugh, 
we sing so much.
(we never knew we would sing so much.) 
we teach them to be themselves. 
we tell them they can be whatever they want to be in this world.
we tell them to listen to 
their hearts
their bodies
their inner wisdom.
we don’t want to lay it on too thick, 
but we tell them to listen to 
their true selves. 
shhhhh…
listen. 

we believe in magic, with them. 
with them, we don’t hold back, 
we are unconcerned, we are not self-conscious. 
(the singing for example,
we really didn’t know there would be
so much singing.)

we are reminded daily, 
almost hourly really, 
of how incredible 
and abundant
and miraculous
life here really is.
that they are that.
that life and our constant little reminder. 
we try to convey this to them
on a long drive home one afternoon
during the why why why phase
every three-year-old goes through.
but, well, 
just end up singing a song about 
the sun, the moon and the stars.
shhhh…
can i tell you a secret?
you are that, my love.