"You're Wonderful! You're Beautiful!"

Little voices chime in the dark as I pull their bedroom door to a crack.  Prayers and songs and kisses for them, and this for me:

"Mommy- You're wonderful!  You're beautiful!"

I smile. Words and giggles mingling, fluttering into the hall where I stand- out of sight. 

I laugh incredulously the first time.   6 months, a year ago, maybe?   Two little three year olds;  Could they possibly understand what they're saying?  Must've picked it up somewhere and liked the sound of it. I tell myself.  Funny girls. 

Months pass and the love lavishing persists.  Joyful outbursts in mundane moments:


"Mommy- You are so so beautiful!"

"Mommy- I love your hair!"

"Mommy- You're Wonderful!"

"Mommy- I really really REALLY like you!"



At the sink.   Buttoning a dress.  Combing hair.  Pouring milk.

"Mommy--    You're Wonderful!  You're Beautiful!"

I look up and  laugh.  The same dubious, wondering laugh. 

I suppose they must know what they're saying, now half-way through four.   But really?   Me? 


Tonight I hear Kate on a stool in the kitchen:

"Daddy- When I grow up, I want to be just like Mommy."

I smile.   And I almost accept it-  compliment of all compliments.


Almost.


Last night, it was their turn:

"You're Wonderful!! You're Beautiful!!"   I called softly from the hall as I pulled their door closed for the night.  Wide eyes peered out at me in the dim light, over blankets clutched, over smiles.  Eyes wide with trust.

And believing.