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Today when I picked Dane up from preschool, his teacher told me a sweet story. It began with one of his classmates crying and ended with Dane bringing over a tissue, toys and a shoulder to cry on. “It’s okay, Kim,” he said. “Don’t cwy.”

My heart almost exploded when I heard this.

Of course I posted the interaction on Facebook, so proud of my little man. Within minutes I had six comments, two of which congratulated me on raising such an empathetic kid.

Before then it never crossed my mind, taking the credit for his actions.

So many other times I’ve winced while taking credit for things that have come out of his mouth:

“Fendi! Oh my GOSH! Shut UP!” (Said to the deaf cat howling for table scraps)
“Beat it.” (To the other cat, sliding open the glass door to let her out)
“Oh, s**t!” (Perfectly in context, in front of my dad)

I sometimes forget that I’m being carefully watched all day, every day. Then I’ll see my eighteen-month-old daughter, Kylie, press a small rectangular block to her ear and start chatting away on her “cell phone.” If I take away a butter knife from Kylie, Dane will tell me it’s Kylie’s turn and if I don’t give it back to her by the count of three, I’m going into time out. I throw my head back in laughter when something is really funny and so do the kids.

There have been behaviors and words of which I’m not proud (such as inadvertently teaching my children how to swear) but today I am very happy and very proud. Dane has proven to me that I don’t suck at my job.

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