I actually room with the 5 year old.
His name is Asher.
Hers is Lucy.
They are two of the best things that have happened to me in the past 4 years that I've been in Asheville.
Tonight...After a few beautiful running/jumping hugs...some kisses good night...along with the unexpected, but equally as glorious, child flatulation...I got to thinking...
Here are two kids, that I could essentially tell them everything. (whether they listen or not)
I would tell them about things that have hurt me in the past. Or ways I have hurt others. I could tell them about all the good times I want to remember, or all the bad times I wish I could forget. I could tell them my deepest darkest secrets...
...and I bet you all the money in the world, that in the next few minutes following my story, I would here these words in broken, southern, 5 and 3 year old vocabulary...
"Ben, I wuv you...I wuv you so much."
They don't even realize, that's helped me through some tough stuff. And they don't care. And I love it.