Timothy...

I told Timothy to go potty before we tore out the door for Emily's swim lessons.

He proclaimed, "No! I don't have to go potty!"

Usually I'd make him go anyhow, but we were cutting it close if we wanted to get Emily to her lesson on time, so I let it slide with a pretty senseless warning: "Fine, but then you better not have to go potty in the next hour. Get in the car."

I got the kids loaded into the van and as we backed out of the driveway, Timothy said, "I have to go potty now."

I braked, completely exasperated. "TIMOTHY! You just told me two minutes ago that you didn't have to go potty!

A voice, barely above a whisper came from his slightly upturned lips, "I still love you, Mommy."

"I love you too... I'm mad at you, though."

So slightly louder he said, "But Mommy! I still love you!"

He has a gift. Timothy somehow knows exactly what to do to endear himself to others. Here, in my minivan that smells like decomposing milk, in the insanity of a hurried moment, I experience unconditional love from my wiggly pre-schooler. It's a gift that could be easily dismissed, but God gives me the wisdom and the grace to spare a nanosecond and treasure it.

"I know. I love you too, Timothy."