I am changing Katelyn’s diaper and as she likes to flip over on the changing table, I have to hold her down as I attempt to diaper her one handed. As I am doing this, Kate is nibbling on my knuckle. Only light nibbles and then one big — CRUNCH. I scream out in pain. (When did she get jaws of steel?)
“Mommy!! You okay? I am coming!” I hear my 3 year old, Carli, from the other room. “What’s wrong? You okay?” she asks me, now standing next to me. It was a quick run down the hall for such a short little girl.
“I am okay.” I tell her, my knuckle throbbing, and Katelyn looking as if she’s going to burst into tears at any second. “Katie bit Mommy. Can you tell your sister that it is not nice to bite?”
“Don’t bite, Mommy!” she says and I can’t tell if she’s telling me not to bite or telling Sissy not to bite me, specifically.
“Thanks, Carli.” I reply as I finish putting Katelyn’s shorts back on.
“It’s okay, Mommy. Carli is here and I am not leaving you.” she tells me. Her compassion, way beyond her years, is surprising. I don’t know why I am so surprised because she is such a caring and loving little girl. But to hear her echo my own words that I have said to her so many times in her own time of pain and need, makes me feel rather good. Often I feel like I am failing as a parent, but it is moments like these when I realize that I am doing pretty damn good.











































































