During my later teenage years I would sometimes do things I wasn’t supposed to (my Mom may argue that’s an understatement). You know, maybe stay out too late and my folks would get worried…stay up all night then yell at me when I got home, worried sick. “Don’t worry about me, Mom, I can take care of myself.” Her reply would eventually end with something along the lines of, “you just wait until you have kids.” Well, I finally get it, and when I rewind through my teenage years and some of the things I put my family through, I cringe at the thought of my daughter having to repeat some of those mistakes. I know that, just like me and countless other kids, she’s going to have to learn the hard way. The thing is, I love her uncontrollably. Just looking at her laying there, espcially when she’s sleeping, prompts a rush of emotion from the pit of my soul that is absolutely uncontrollable. I want to do everything possible to give her the best chance at life…the best education, the best opportunities, the best stuff. And when it comes right down to it, there are no words to describe that feeling…imagine the purest and most unselfish love you could possibly feel and that doesn’t even scratch the surface. So when Ava gets to her teenage years, I know she’s going to make a few mistakes. She’s going to do dumb things that I’ve done, things that I will warn her will be mistakes, and she will regret them. I will tell her, “trust me, I’ve been there and done that.” But she will think I’m full of it…just an old parent who is out of touch. And I will worry, and I will punish her, and she will learn a lesson. But above all, that love I feel for her will always be on display, front and center. She will know it, and she will feel it even if her mouth speaks words to the contrary. It will nestle inside of her soul somewhere, ready to pour out when she has children of her own. And all will be well.