My daughters are too old for this now, but when they were young, crib size and diaper laden, I'd come home,

shout their names and watch them run to me with extended arms and squealing voices.

And for the next few moments we would speak the language of love.

We'd roll on the floor, gobble bellies, and tickle tummies, and laugh and play we delighted in each other's presence.

In this very special dad time my kids let me love them.

Psalm 1 127 3 through 5 reminds us that children are a heritage from the Lord offspring

a reward from him like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one's

youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. I'm a blessed man. This is Max Locato.