Saffiyah (age 4) was entering full swing into one of her rare but vigorous tantrums. Running as fast as she could to the end of my patience and I could feel my own temper rising up to meet hers. Al Hamdulilah, (Thanks to God), I did the right thing and immediately sent her out of the room. “Go sit on the couch”, I yell. Yes, I yelled. But really I’d had enough…ENOUGH. So she runs crying from the kitchen, where she had just made her latest mess.
Ali, who just turned 2, three weeks ago ran to meet her. I hear him asking, “Wat appen’n” in his broken 2 year old english. More crying and hysterical sobbing, as if I had actually put my hands on her. “Wat mat-ur?” He asks again. She still doesn’t answer. “It ah-rite” he tells her. “Hurt?” He asks, he can ask that very well since usually he is the cause. “It ah-rite.” He tells her again, and gives her a hug.
And I smile to myself. Because really it is alright now. I’m just so thankful to be raising children who care. That it reminds me, his mother how much small kindnesses and sympathy mean to us all.