We sit at the kitchen table together, side-by-side. Brushes are scattered across the tabletop and our fingers are marked with errant splatters of paint.
"You know what I love?" my daughter asks.
Her answer could go in a million directions. She could be poised to tell me that she loves painting these paper plates, or that she loves puppies or ponies, storybooks or sunshine, tacos or tambourines, the Wal-Mart toy aisle or watching her favorite cartoon.
"No, tell me," I reply.
"I love when you sit beside me."
And just like that, I'm reminded what my children love the most. They love to be loved.