one little, two little, three little emilie's

Nash asked me the other day, "Emmy, why did Heavenly Father make you?" I told him, "He made me so I could be happy. Why did He make you?" He smiled real big and said, "Cause He loves me."

I remember when Bessie used to come running as I walked through the door after school, wagging her tail and giving me kisses. Mom would be downstairs ironing. "Hey, Em." Chocolate chip cookies would be warming on wire racks on the kitchen counter. I'd pour myself some milk and plop down, humming through my chews. Mom would come in and ask about school. I'd spend the evening doing homework and playing. The whole fam would sit down for dinner, and sometimes Dad would start a water fight. If it was my day for dishes, I'd load the dishwasher while Mom and Dad could be heard down the hall talking about work or gospel concepts, Andy would be downstairs playing Nintendo, and Liz would be in her room reading something by Toni Morrison. And sometimes after a good, simple day I would go out on the back porch and look up at the moon and think, "I want this to last..." It's true. I'm not making this up.

I want a home filled with little Nates, and maybe one little Emilie. I want Nate and I to be the voices our kids hear from down the hall as they load the dishwasher after dinner. I want my kids to want our family to last. And I want them to ask me why Heavenly Father made me so I can tell them "...to be your mom. Now finish the dishes."