One of my friends, who’s an avid reader, is also one of the most thoughtful and kind people I know. As an elementary school teacher, it must be second nature to her to encourage a love of reading in others. More than once, after we’ve discussed our favorite children’s stories, a copy of a book she recommended will anonymously show up in the mail. I was stumped the first time it happened, thinking my online shopping had really gotten out of control if I couldn’t even remember what I ordered from Amazon!
I thought back to recent conversations, racking my brain to try and recall who I had discussed Llama Llama with, when it finally dawned on me. Turns out, my sweet friend is also raising a sweet and compassionate daughter, who, after learning we didn’t have our own copy, insisted on getting it for us.
Another title we’ve received from these thoughtful friends is, “I Love You, Stinky Face.” I hadn’t heard of the book before she mentioned it, and had never read it until we excitedly opened the package from the mail one afternoon when we got home from therapy. I sat down with Gage and to read it right away. We didn’t make it to page 4 before I was tearing up.
If you’re not familiar with the story, it’s about a little kid getting tucked in at bedtime by his loving mother. She tells him she loves him, and he presents a variety of “what if” questions, like if he were a super smelly skunk or giant cyclops. All of this is probably just a bedtime stalling tactic on the part of the kid (which I’m all too familiar with lately), but the mother responds to each scenario explaining how she would not only love him, but take care of him in specific ways to meet his needs, buying an extra-large toothbrush for an alligator or building a house next to the swamp to be with her swamp monster always.
I’ll be the first to admit it doesn’t take much to make me emotional, but the reason this book got to me that first time I read it, and still gets to me every time we curl up with it in bed, is how beautifully it portrays the love of a parent for a child. Of course this applies across the board, but I think it hits close to home for me having a child with disabilities. At times, Gage might have terrible breath, or excessive slobber and a soaked bib that doesn’t exactly smell like roses. But there’s nothing about the kid that could make me love him any less. Just like the mom in the story, I’ll try to help resolve some of his issues, but if he still smells bad, I won’t mind. If my shoulder is covered in drool where Gage rests his head when I hold him, or if he continues to be an incredibly messy eater, it will be just fine. I’ll go to great lengths to make him and his little brother understand how loved they are, and I’ll do my best to meet their unique needs. I might draw the line at sewing shredded sheets back together every day though!