When I watch my oldest son
With his little daughter,
Reading her books,
Or patiently braiding her hair,
Or waiting while she chooses, and changes her mind, and
chooses, and changes her mind about
What she will wear,
And when I watch him bathing her,
Or kissing a bump on her forehead to make it better,
Or tenderly tucking her into bed at night,
I know that, though I did a lot of things wrong,
I must have done a few things right.
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