By Katie Revai LeFevre 
It was an ordinary, early Friday morning–one that found my children and I packing up for a trip out of town to attend a family wedding.
“Can you grab a handful of bedtime books you’d like to take, my girl?” I asked my 3-year-old.
“Of course, I can, Mommy!” she replied, only to come out of her bedroom with closer to 15 or so of her current favorites. I should’ve expected this, as my daughter is a real bookworm and likes to be as prepared as she can be when we travel.
“Oh honey, can I help you carry some of those?” I called to her from down the hallway, anticipating what was to come.
After at first refusing, claiming “I can do it!” my sweet girl gave in. “Sure, I guess you can help me carry my pile of books, Mama.”
As I picked up seven or eight books, including her favorite Fancy Nancy and Angelina Ballerina stories, I realized how lucky I am to be the one there to help my girl out when she needs a hand.
In the small tasks and in the ones more grand, I get to be the one to make a difference in her day-to-day experience. Even more, I get to be the one to help carry the load. Her load. My precious baby girl’s load. Because things can get heavy on small shoulders . . . and that’s okay. Life won’t always be easy.
You know what, though? I’ll never stray from her side. You see, I don’t ever want my daughter to think she can’t turn to me. Instead, I want her to know she can–and should–rely on me, for anything and everything. Whether it be a just-a-bit-too-tall stack of board books, a relentless fear of the dark late at night, or a slightly scraped, Band-Aid and a kiss needing knee, the burden won’t ever be hers alone to carry.
I pray my sweet girl never hesitates to let it all fall on me. I know I won’t always carry it all perfectly, but I will always be there to lessen the burden. The challenging things, the tricky things, the didn’t-go-as-expected things? We’ll figure it all out together. Isn’t that what motherhood is all about, after all? Growing as individuals right alongside our littles?
Let’s get back to that ordinary Friday morning. As my beautiful girl breathed a sigh of relief upon witnessing me setting down books 8-15, I was reminded of how simple it really is to be there–fully, presently, wholly–for my precious babies. Making a significant difference as their mama doesn’t have to be made up of extravagant feats. Rather, simple acts of love. Simple offerings of “please, sweetheart, let me.”
Because, you see, as much as we celebrate our babies as they grow in their independence, there’s so much to celebrate in simply letting them be. That is, letting them be three (or whatever fleeting age they are). Letting them be dependent on us. Letting them be secure in the knowledge that they don’t have to handle hard things alone. Because as much as our little-miss (or mister)-independents might want to handle everything on their own, that’s just not the way it has to be. Not just yet. Not at three.
And so, I pray my sweet girl continues to remember–for at least a little bit longer–that she can continue to turn to me. In the simple moments, in the hard moments, and in the everything-in-between moments, I pray my sweet girl rests in the comfort of knowing she doesn’t have to navigate a single bit of this life solo. I pray she remembers we’re a team. I pray my sweet girl knows she can always count on me.
God, I pray to be everything–alongside you, of course–that my precious daughter needs. Especially here at this moment right now, at the storybook-loving, “I can do it all on my own,” tender young age of three.
by Kelli Bachara 
by Sherry White 
