My tiny teacher

I am in the kitchen, reheating soup from the freezer and handing the toddler quartered grape tomatoes in her high chair to keep her from screaming.

BG comes in, holding the marble notebook I gave her.

"Mommy,  can I write in my journal?"

Pause. "Yes! Yes, of course. " I hand her a pen.

"I haven't written in a while."

"I ... Me neither."

"I just have to work in my poetry. I'm going to be a famous writer, so I do my very best each day."

"That's wonderful honey. Keep working hard."

OKAY TINY PREACHY MIRROR, I HEAR YOU.