In the end there is not much that separates us from them. We are meant to give to them. We are meant

to be a bottomless source of love to them. But we use them in the same way. We demand of them

bottomless love and at least some service. Service and love. Sounds like a Sunday sermon. But I am

not talking about service to God, or God’s love. I am talking about the future, our children. (A terrifying

thought that something that I produce would be responsible for anything, but hell, why not. I’m pretty

responsible.) I would put emphasis on the bottomless part of the third sentence of this paragraph. Not

that we as parents are tried or that we don’t fail, but the expectation is there, that expectation that our

patience will not end.

Parenting can make us all lose identity, but then they do things like this and you don’t care.

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