Love Is A Verb
My son Henry is a masterful teacher. He’s only two, but, as Emerson wrote, “An ounce of action is worth a ton of theory.”
And Henry is always in action.
To begin each morning, Henry runs to Penny, our Cavapoo (a mix between a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and Poodle), gives her a giant bear hug, and says, “Hiiiiiii, Pennnnyyyyy!” He then says hi to everyone else in the house with enthusiasm Mark “Mad Dog” Madsen would have trouble matching.
But it’s Penny who gets the first hug. She never leaves Henry’s side: When Henry eats, she eats. When Henry cries, she cries. When Henry sleeps, she sleeps—right by his side.
Their love for each other is expressed through action. Of course, their options are limited. One is a two-year-old with a limited vocabulary, and the other is a dog. And yet, they flawlessly communicate in the most beautiful of languages: love.
They used to call Reagan “The Great Communicator,” but I’m confident Henry could give the Gipper a run for his money. You always know how Henry feels. He’s unambiguous, genuine, and unafraid to express himself. In Henry’s presence, love and understanding emanate.
That’s how I want to live my life.