Sometimes I ask Luke crazy questions like, "Is your mommy the prettiest person ever?" or "What does it mean when I say I love you?" And sometimes I get ridiculous answers like, "Mommy is a pretty man," but sometimes I get answers like, "I love you means happy, mama."
The other night as we were driving home, I told Shane what I thought love was. Because really, how DO you describe love? But then I turned around to the two sleeping boys in my backseat, and oh. I described it.
Do you remember when you were a child, and you'd be driving home with your parents at night? Maybe they'd have the radio on or maybe they'd be talking softly, but you'd be tucked safely into your seat, drowsily watching the lights flash by. And you felt so SAFE, like safer than you've ever felt in your entire life--safer than you'll ever feel as an adult. You knew that you were protected and you were going home, and you knew that if you fell asleep in the car, your dad would carry you inside.
THAT is what I love you means.