They come naked into this world and we clothe them
They come crying into this world and we dry their tears.
They come with questions into this world and we answer them.
They come with challenges into this world that we help them meet.
They take their first breath and we breathe easier.
They take their first step and we are beside them.
They say their first word and we hear the music.
They give their first kiss and we swoon.
They smell a flower and we breathe in its aroma.
They see the sun setting and we notice its beauty
They catch a cold and we sneeze
They fall down and we ache.
They have a first friend, a best friend, a new friend
They spell some of their letters backward
They don't want to go to school that day
They don't know why it can be so hard sometimes
They need you all the time and then they don't
They care deeply and passionately and then not so much
They are stubborn and unbending until they are not
They are infuriating until we melt in their embrace
They walk their own path and we follow close behind
They make their own way and we watch unnoticed
They seek their own light and we stand in the shadows
They do what they must and we do what we can
They find a first love, a true love, and then a lasting love
They become who they are and who they were meant to be
They make their own mistakes and find their own answers
They paint their own picture and we view each vibrant color
But we are forever who we were that very first day
We are never the same as we had been before
Once they arrive, forever after our own lives mean so much less
Once they are with us, forever after our lives mean so much more
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Another point of view: ASK
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
That's beautiful, dad.
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