Children's age: 4 years
I was giving the kids a bath. Bath time is such fun with them. They love seeing Mommy roll up her sleeves, expose her arms and brave the splish-splashing of the wild pair.
The water was warm and bubbly-- Every other bath is a bubble-bath, because I can't help giving them something I know they love. They're so adorable covered in bubbles. For the past few months, they've delighted in putting beards on one another.
Anyway, we were laughing as I scrubbed Hel's little foot, making sure to get between his toes. He's so ticklish-- moreso than his sister-- but it makes us all giggle. That's when Cassandra pointed to his foot.
"Butterfy!"
Time seemed to slow down-- you know, like when you feel it's important and you know you'll remember this moment for the rest of your life-- as I followed her finger to my son's ankle. The inside anklebone.
There is, indeed, a butterfly-esqe tribal design. Perhaps not a butterfly, but similiar in basic shape. And too symmetrical to be a birth mark. I think. Right?
Cassandra has one, too. Mirroring his. I felt my blood go cold and the children stopped laughing. They could feel my worry. That wasn't good.
I had to busy myself with finishing their bath to push away the emotion.
I think that made me realise what the hardest part about having my little ones is going to be-- I can't hide my emotions from them. They will feel everything I feel. I just have to discipline my mind and my feelings so as not to overwhelm them.
How is that possible? It must be, because my people had to have a way to raise their children without either going crazy because of the other's emotions.
Or are these my 'outsider upbringing' beliefs? Perhaps they raised children differently in that other place.
Hmmm. That's something to think about.
