mine’s the best

We’ve been reminding the girls a lot lately that it’s not kind to say “Mine’s the best” in comparison to others about your new shoes, or clump of grapes, or drawing, or who knows what. It’s kind of a rule now around our home: no saying “Mine’s the best.” 

But I guess I’m gonna break that rule. 

Because at the certainty of sounding totally cliché, my husband is the best. 

I see it so much in how he treats his girls, our kids. 

He’s so patient. He’ll stick with a crying, angry, upset girl, staying so calm, helping them regulate themselves with his own sense of peace and non-urgency.

He’s so creative. Normal parenting moments with defiant kids where I feel there’s no resort left but to start taking away privileges, he’ll somehow know how to take down their defensiveness, turn it all around, and teach a point while we’re all giggling. 

He’s thoughtful. Even when I know both of us are exhausted and worn down in every way, he’ll still come rub my back in the kitchen, check in, find ways to spoil and care for me. 

There’s so much more. And I know I’ll keep writing about him as long as we both shall live. But in a season where so much of our time and focus goes to our kids, I wanted to stop and remember just how lucky I am. 

I’m so glad I married him. Mine’s the best.