The sweet innocence of a three-year-old grips at my heart like nothing else.
Tonight, as Liv was going upstairs to bed, I asked her if she was, "dying to see daddy on Friday." As soon as it came out of my mouth, I realized that she may not understand what I meant. I was right. Her reply:
"No, I'm not dying to see daddy. Little girls don't die. Only mommies and daddies die. When you and daddy die, I want to fly on a plane to go live with Grandma and Grandpa."
I couldn't stop laughing and then changed the subject and grabbed a book to read before she could begin with questions!