Piper is now pulling herself up on everything to get to something she wants that is higher than she is.
She pulls herself up on the couch.
She pulls herself up the back of my desk chair.
She pulls herself up on the bookcase.
She pulls herself up in the pantry.
She pulls herself up and over boxes and packages.
Now she has started pulling herself up on my legs.
She is taller than my knees now. There is something incredibly irresistible about her pleading face looking up at me from her death grip on my jeans. She knows she wants Mommy. Now. Very badly.
I don't know what it means to spoil a child. I'm the oldest of eight children, and I used to have very definite opinions about the spoilage of my younger siblings, but this is Piper's time. There will be years to teach her about letting go, and soon she will crave her independence. I can't hold onto her forever.
Jesus noted that we give good gifts to our children - why should those gifts not include the warmth of our arms and the safety of our love? Why should they exclude the desires of their little hearts?
So I pick her up and she showers me with her sloppy baby kisses and wiggles into my hug.
I think again about climbing my Abba's knees.
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