Baking a Life

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As he grows, I'm constantly questioning if we're doing the right things.  It's a typical parenting feeling, I'd assume, but I hope that we're teaching him well and loving him even better.  I want to pour into him the things that I've learned in my 34 years of life, but I want to give him the space to mix up his own thoughts and feelings and emotions.  He's a part of me, but separate from me.  He's his own individual and sometimes it takes me a second to remember that.  So I give him bits and pieces, I help to guide him, but I also step back and watch.

Pour. Mix. Repeat.

There is so much to teach and I feel like I have to pick and choose the best philosophies.  Kindness.  Tolerance.  Acceptance.  Inclusion.  But how do these teachings mix in with the basics - reading, writing, time?  I once read that you only get 18 summers with your children.  It feels overwhelming to think of all the things I want to teach him, and allow him to learn, in that short of time.  But at some point, I also have to realize that he's learning every single day, by the way I present myself to the world.  And that is more important than anything I could ever say.

Pour. Mix. Repeat.

And now I'll have to follow these same guidelines I've instilled with a second.  Pouring myself and my beliefs into the baby, but allow them the chance to mix it up all with their own.  I have to believe that as long as I continue to show the things that I think are essential to the world, the baby will feel those, too - just as Henry has.

Pour. Mix. Repeat.

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