My daughter Joy handed me a picture she had drawn. “It’s you!” she said. I admired it. “Read the poem on the back! I wrote you a poem,” she urged. I turned the paper over and began reading her sweet poem:
Mom
We love you
especially you
Love us and we’ll love you
Oh how we love you
Very beautiful you
Especially you
You are my mom, you are!
And how we love you.
You, you , you…But do you love me?
I smiled from ear to ear as I read, until I reached the last line. What? Doesn’t she know I love her? She was so proud of her poem, but…how heart breaking. She was waiting for my reaction so I blurted out a couple of compliments, but I suddenly felt nauseous. I am a horrible mother. She doesn’t even know I love her? How can that be? I knew I had to address it, but I didn’t want to make a huge issue out of it either. I couldn’t wait. I had to know.
“Honey, I love your poem. It’s so sweet…but…uh that last line…don’t you know I love you?” I held my breath.
“Oh, yeah. I know you love me! It just sounded good in the poem!” and she skipped on her merry way. I just smiled, but I’ve been laughing at myself ever since!

Sometimes kids don’t know what they’re saying…