Switching roles

In my most vulnerable and low-morale moment, when snot clogged my nose while tears streamed down my face, my rowdy nearly-8-month-old baby girl crawled her way to me, stared at me, and ever so gently touched my left eye with her thumb and then dragged it down my cheek.

She did it over and over again, about 3 or 4 more times, as if telling me “It’s ok, mommy. It’s all going to be ok.”

She didn’t scream or “talk” in indecipherable baby talk like she always does. She just looked at me quietly, and kept touching my eye and cheek until my crying slowly turned into silent sobbing. I smiled at her to let her know I’ll be ok, and then she went back to her usual rowdy self.

I was truly surprised by what she did. I have to admit that when I realized she was comforting me in my moment of weakness, I cried a little more out of love and gratitude. She’s barely 8 months old, but she empathized with me. (At least that’s how I see it.)

Babies are something else, aren’t they?

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