Cheap Love

Sometimes we believe that love must be extravagant.  

Cost a lot.

Be grand expressions with public displays.

But sometimes the greatest love is cheap.  And hidden.  Private.  Sentimental.  Yet shared.

We go through books with our daughter where we write notes or secret messages with invisible ink or dot and dash coded messages. And we fill up her books with short but daily messages that let her know we are thinking about her all the time.

One book was waiting for her every day when she returned from school.

She’d run through the door, throw her backpack down, grab the book, and decipher the invisible or coded message.

And then she’d return it that evening with a message of her own.

Right now she is getting a Second-Breakfast Book.  It’s a running love note from her daddy. It’s a running love note from me- her mommy. And it’s inserted into her snack box so that every day at school she sees our love for her.

Sometimes when she doesn’t finish her 2nd breakfast at school, I see her eating it at home, going through each page of the book, giggling and smiling simultaneously.  

They will forever be ingrained into my mind. Into the innermost part of my heart and soul.

Love—sometimes expressions of it may not cost a lot—but the effects of it are more than any diamond in any crown on any queen around the world because they show my daughter she’s priceless to me!

Giggle.  What are these?

My daughter can read in Polish.  Therefore, it’s not the words on the label that threw her off this evening as she went grocery shopping with me.

But what happened was so cute.  We were walking down the aisle while I was checking my grocery list.  When we came where I needed to stop, my daughter giggled and asked, “What are those?!”

I looked at what drew such curious giggling from my daughter and began giggling on my own.

Glancing at her innocent, adorable face and said, “They’re eggs!”

“But they’re white,” she proclaimed.

“Why, yes they are.  Yes, they are.”

Far, far away from the land famous for white eggs, aka America, white eggs here in Poland are a novelty not quite known how to be perceived.


And to top off the trip, she wore an ace bandage on her hand and wrapped her arm in her scarf like a sling.

Just because.

She also threw on her high-heeled (for a 9-year-old) turquoise shoes with no socks.  Believe me—it’s cold outside.

And off we went.  To the grocery store together.

Where she, my precious Adelyne, discovered white eggs.

And where we, mother and daughter, both left with the giggles!