It takes less time to do thing right than it does to explain why you did it wrong.

Evidence of a left-kneed mother

Pants. Pants. I wear holy pants.

It is tradition for men to drop to one knee before the ones they love. Well, did you know that mothers do it, too?

Every.

Single.

Day.

When I’m applying a band-aid, I kneel before my child.

When I’m helping him into his snow pants, I kneel before my child.

When we’re packing the backpack, I kneel before my child.

When I’m playing Candy Land on the living room carpet, I kneel before my child.

While I’m applying sunscreen, I kneel before my child.

When we’re setting up the tent, I kneel before my child.

When we’re picking up spilled Cheerio’s, I kneel before my child.

When I’m pulling tight shin guards off sweaty legs, I kneel before my child.

When I’m listening to last night’s dream, I kneel before my child.

It is love. It is true. If my children had shiny engagement bling for every time I’ve knelt before them in love, they would be as glittery as a department store Christmas trees.