The heart’s health

I’m trying to do sit-ups. I’m inhibited by three year-old Isaiah, who has crawled onto my chest and put his warm face against my neck. He’s crying in frustration with a shirt that he can’t seem to make fit right, but which he resists letting anyone help him with.

I wrap my arms around him. “Are you my sad little bear?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “I not a bear.”

“Are you my sad baby?”

“No. I not a baby.”

“Are you my sad little boy?”

“I not a boy.”

“Are you my sad Isaiah?”

“Yes. I Isaiah.”

I hold him tight against me, willing time to stand still. Soon he is smiling. Isaac joins us, and together the two of them try to emulate my sit-ups and push-ups. They chatter at me and fall against each other and roll under me and it’s quite clear that Daddy’s exercise time is done.

My body is not as healthy as I might be without them. But my heart, my heart sings.


  1. AtoZMom

    Awesome! My conversations with my 3 year old go like this:

    “You too big for mamma to carry you! You’re a big boy!”

    “No, I not. I baby.”

    “You’re a baby?”

    “No, I TINY baby.”

    Then I hug him because I want him to be a tiny baby for as long as possible. This harsh world will be waiting when he is ready.



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