The older my children get, the more they literally make my heart ache. (In a good way.)
At this rate, by the time they are 18 and ready to leave the nest, I will likely have an aneurysm when they head off to college.
Last night, after I returned home from a quick trip to Detroit, Mercer took my hand in hers and said, "Mommy, I love spending time with you."
Me too, honey. Me too.
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