Avery is about four years old. She comes into my clinic with her mom.
One of Avery’s favourite things to do is find one of my office stamps – the kind that stamps my clinic address on cards and magazines and envelopes – and stamp it all over herself. She stamps it on her hands and arms and clothes and neck and face.
I’m a bit flabbergasted, watching this. I love her singlemindedness in covering every bit of bare skin. I love watching her mom smile while this goes on, knowing she’ll be ridiculously busy washing it all off tonight. I love the permissiveness of it, remembering how strictly I was raised, and how there’s no way this would have happened when I was a kid.
I get a kind of vicarious thrill from it all.
And it makes me wonder this: if I could design my own stamp, and stamp it on my forehead, what would it say? It wouldn’t be my clinic address, that’s for sure. I can think of a few things.
I am not as uptight as I look today.
I am kinder at heart than I am out loud.
I make heaps of mistakes, but I mean well.
I love it when you make me laugh.
I’ll love you forever if you help me see all of this in a better light.
You are beautiful. I’ll do my best to see this even when you don’t.
I wish you could know my kids.
I want to do a lot more with my life.
Love wins every time.
I’d need a big forehead for all of that, but there you go.
What about your stamp? What would it say?
Thanks to Avery and to you for the conversation,