The tears come fast and heavy down your perfectly round cheeks. Your eyes instinctively close. Doesn’t sadness and anger do that to us — isolate, shame? Don’t see me crying. It’s one of those parenting tricks I picked up along the way: if you’re still looking at me — those tears ain’t real.

Oh, but when they are. Littlefoot, it takes every minute of my hard-won years of being an adult, practicing the art of maintaining composure, to keep me from joining you in those tears. It takes strength I didn’t know I had in me to hold your chin up and look into those beautiful, overwhelmed eyes and tell you with unbending certainty: I hear you. And it’s going to be okay.

It doesn’t matter that you’re only crying because you’re tired, or your socks won’t go on right, or the cat doesn’t want to be smothered. I can look back and laugh at the ridiculousness of those tears over something so small! But in that moment, Littlefoot, when your little heart is swimming with emotions so strong they overflow, I feel.

Don’t look away from me in your pain, Littlefoot. I will always feel your feels, and I will always care.