A couple days ago Judah came home from playing outside and the Spouse made him strip down naked and wash his hands. Our house is kind of like a prison--you need to strip and scrub before entering. The Spouse is a little (and by little I mean A LOT) OCD about dirt.
Judah was really unhappy, as he usually is, to be stripped and scrubbed, and whimpered and whined about how cold he was. My heart leapt with compassion for him (it was a really cold day) and I ran downstairs and unzipped my fleece jacket and put it around him. Then I scooped him up and carried him upstairs to his room to get some new clothes.
The look on Judah's face when he saw me drape my jacket on him is a look I wish I could replay forever. It was like the warmest sunlight had been flicked on. In that instant I knew I had made him feel loved, comforted, and best of all, understood.
And that is all I could ever want for him, and for myself as his parent.