Our daughter was miserable one evening, coming home from Grandma’s house. I found out that she had inadvertently spent more time chatting with one of her aunts, and not as much time playing downstairs in the basement. Now it was time to go home!

“I’m sure she was so happy to get to talk to you,” I said.
“But I wanted to play more!” she whimpered.
“That’s ok. You know what that’s called?” I asked.
“What?”
“What you did. It was a sacrifice. A gift.”
“What?”
“You wanted to play downstairs, but instead, you spent time talking with your aunt. You made a sacrifice.”
“Ok.”
“When you’re playing with a toy, and your little sister wants it… giving it to her is a sacrifice.”

Her mood was already changing with this new idea crunching around in her head when my husband pipes up from down the hall.

“Do you know who made the biggest sacrifice EVER?”
“Who?”
“Jesus.”
“Oh…”

These days, my two older kids are completely taken with this idea. This morning, our second was disappointed that we were having leftovers (again!) for lunch. After taking a small break to calm down, she at herself down at the table with us and ate her portion. Then she announced, “Mama? I ate my lunch even if I didn’t like it at all. That’s a sacrifice.”

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