It was a cold, wet, dark and generally miserable November day. I had just wrestled my kids into their warm clothing, boots and mittens, and finally left the house, gearing up for a second wrestling match with the car seats. It was the kind of day that makes you want to turn around, go back in the house, get a warm cup of tea, return to pyjama-clad state and climb back into bed.
It was then that my 5 year old turned to me and said “Mommy, isn’t it a beautiful day?”
I stopped in my tracks.
I thought about telling him that people don’t usually think cold, dark, wet November days are considered beautiful, but I stopped myself.
He was telling me something much more important.
Maybe he saw something I didn’t. Maybe he liked the feeling of the rain on his face. Maybe he liked the contrast of the yellow leaves against the dark sky. Maybe he was simply happy to be together as a loving family and wasn’t sure how to express it.
Whatever it was, I hope he never loses it.
“Yes, my love, it is a beautiful day.”