“We’re Your Kids, Too.”

I was walking through the school playground on my way to a toddler class where I’d been offering extended aid, and I ran into the 3-year-old class. I’d spent a lot of time aiding with their class too, so we had gotten to know each other well. They all ran to me for hellos and hugs.

Irven asked me with bright, wide eyes, “Are you gonna come hang out with us today?!”
I gave him a squeeze, “Aw man, I wish I could! I have to stay with my own kids today, though.”
Irven’s bright eyes changed to sad ones as he looked up at me with a sincere sniffle,

“But we are your kids, too...”

I’ve always cherished that moment, of course, with such sweet gratitude.
It so neatly speaks to the reason I do what I do, why I love my job, why my work is so precious to me. I fall in love with each and every child I work with during the first conversation we have. I truly believe even the youngest of them knows I am a safe harbor for them when they need a rest from the waves.
These children ARE “my kids.”

I’m not their mother.

I’m their Miss Wren.

(I did get to go and hang out with Irven and his class later that day. And we had a great time catching up, laughing, and giving big squeezes. On my way out, he called, “I think you should come hang out with us again soon. Maybe tomorrow?”)

May my work always provide feelings of safety and nourishment for “my kids,” and fortify their understanding that they are so worthy of love.