I heard: “Rissa may stay with me.”
It happened on a Tuesday. No rain. No dramatic music. Just the hum of the dishwasher and the click of the front door latch as I got home from work. My daughter, Rissa (age 4, going on 17), was sitting on the living room rug, building a castle out of magnatiles. rissa may stay with me, daddy
She squirmed down, patted my knee with the condescension only a preschooler can muster, and walked back to her castle. Without looking up, she said it: I heard: “Rissa may stay with me
They’re not leaving you behind. They’re just finally comfortable enough to sit with who they are—and that’s a gift you gave them. Rissa (age 4