There, I said it.

My kids are perfect.

They are perfect at smiling, at laughing and hugging.

They are perfect at jumping on beds, running in the yard and I can’t even express how perfect they are at screaming.

They are perfect at playing and discovering.

They are perfect at learning at their very own pace.

They are perfect at asking questions, and asking more and more questions.

They are perfect at letting us know what they need.

They are perfect at following their passions.

They are perfect at spending time playing video games, and board games, and watching DVD’s.

They are perfect at making rules and breaking rules.

They are perfect at testing boundaries, their own and those of others.

They are perfect at being siblings.

They are perfect at being frustrated.

They are perfect at choosing what and how much to eat.

They are perfect at making messes.

They are perfect at trying to understand how the world works and what their place is within it.

They are perfect at cuddling in the daytime and in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning.

They are perfect at getting our attention.

They are perfect at making sure our lives are never dull.

They are perfect at being carefree and happy.

They are perfect at having worries and being scared.

They are perfect at entertaining themselves.

They are perfect at being energetic.

They are perfect at being bored.

They are perfect at being impulsive.

They are perfect at remembering details that we never even noticed.

They are perfect at speaking their minds.

They are perfect at being authentic and honest.

My kids are perfect at being Kids.

Now it is my goal, and sometimes my struggle, to let them be perfect.

My four...