I was sitting in bed journaling on a Sunday morning. The September wind was blowing and the air was crisp and cool. My windows were open and I could hear the wind chimes dancing in the wind and providing a mesmerizing twinkle to offset the rush of the wind gusts. 

My son came running across the house and jumped into bed next to me.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked.

“I would love it,” I responded, rubbed his arm, and went back to journaling. He sat next to me, playing a game while I journaled. When I had finished journaling, I looked over at him and said, “I need to go cut up fruit for you guys for breakfast and switch over the laundry.

He smiled back at me, “You don’t NEED to do that.”

I paused and allowed silence as I was thinking about his statement. 

“Maybe you SHOULD do that, mum, but you don’t NEED to do it,” he said in a very matter-of-fact way and went back to playing. 

“You are right, baby,” I said. He looked up and smiled at me. 

I reached for my water bottle and scooted down into the bed, staring out the window and watching the leaves dance in the wind. He was right. There was very little that I NEEDED to do, and I adored the fact that not only did he understand this concept, but he embodied it regularly and was willing to call me out on it when I wasn’t embodying it.