Spoiling my kids

Younger Daughter attends a college about ten miles away. In theory, I can see her whenever she likes. I texted her a few days ago to meet for dinner and then go grocery-shopping (my treat, of course).

As we were walking around Krogers, picking up items to stock for her apartment, we had this conversation.

Her: You spoil your kids.
Me: Yes, I do.
Her: You're admitting it?
Me: Yes, I am. I spoil you, and I'm proud of it.
Her: Don't most people think spoiling kids is a bad thing?
Me: Probably. But if something ever happens to me, remember us just like this. Laughing. Talking. Being spoiled.

I was in an airport last week, preparing to fly home from a visit to see my parents. The lady behind me in line was flying home from a funeral--for her 24-year-old daughter.

Over the past week, I've been thinking a lot about that lady. I'm sure she would love the opportunity to go grocery-shopping with her daughter one more time. To text whenever they wanted. To talk and laugh. To indulge each other with love.

That grieving mom has my deepest sympathies, but she also has my gratitude. In this holiday season, she's reminded me what my priorities should truly be. May I never forget that gift.

Yes, I spoil my kids. No apologies.