Oh this poor neglected blog. And still so many posts at social media I mean to copy here 🙁
But these utterances I feel quite compelled to write down.
Nem, before saying goodnight (with my replies, and the conversation), sadly and very tenderly, almost in tears:
“Dada?”
“Yes?”
“When my tooth comes out, I won’t be able to make the temple with my tongue anymore.”
“Well, you can make it other ways.”
“No, I put my tongue down like this, and that’s the bottom of the building, and the gap in my teeth is that tall, what do you call it?”
“Steeple.”
“So I won’t be able to make that anymore.”
“You know the conference center has a lot of wide steeples. It’s a huge building in Salt Lake where people go to listen to conference.”
“But I won’t be able to make the temple anymore.”
I’ve never known any soul so very sweet and tender. When she hears tragic stories about people, she simply feels their experiences as her own; she is devastated. I have tasted the fruit of the Tree of Life. This little one leads me on to the tree. The fruit is sweet.
Tangent: so much hilarity in videos playing imagination and goofing off with Nem are due here. ASAP…