Suffer the little children

I often start my mornings by swapping grins with the sweetest little boy I've ever known.

Jesus Christ once said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for such is the kingdom of God." I know he would have loved Connor. I sure do.

Connor belongs to my cousin Mindy and her husband, Johnny. My grandmother keeps him during the week.

As I bound down the steps to head to the office, Connor will be playing in the living room. I say hello and he stares back. I act goofy and he grins. Sometimes he laughs and I laugh back.

Other times he'll be napping, almost always clutching to his bottle and his stuffed monkey. I love to watch small children sleep. Their visage is the epitome of peace.

Connor is so smart. His vocabulary for someone who has yet to turn 2 is incredible. He likes to look at picture books. This morning he showed me the difference between a fire truck and a garbage truck. It reminded me of a 2-year-old who once could recite "Danny and the Dinosaur" back to his mother verbatim.

Connor was still here when I got home from work. I grabbed him up and we played together for a few minutes. I hopped around with him and he laughed. He would start up the steps and I would bring him back down. When we reached the bottom step, again he laughed. When he started giving me Eskimo kisses, my heart turned to mush.

Connor makes me forget all about deadlines and commitments. He also brings me a tremendous amount of joy. I can't believe I'm getting ready to type this, but he makes me wish I had a boy of my own.

I think I know why the carpenter from Nazareth loved children so much. I suspect he once held a boy much like Connor on his knee.

They're too young to hate, full of boundless energy and possess hearts that know only love and trust. We adults could learn from their example.

Blessed are the children, indeed.