No Regrets

I can't tell you what I read or where I read it, but I came across something that challenged my perspective a few days ago.
Amber and Avery love to play with their toys. They're fairly patient, and having two of them, they can entertain themselves better than I imagine a single baby could. But they LOVE to play with Mom and Dad. No one can make them laugh like we can. But of course there's always a tension between work and play. Come to think of it, there's also a tension between rest and play--these days can be exhausting. No matter how much I have to do, or how much I want to take a break and just sit on the couch scrolling through Pinterest, it's inevitable that tiny little feet will come running at some point. They'll carry a toy phone for me to talk into, or a spoon with some delicious imagined food for me to taste. It's easy to turn them away when you're there all day. "No thank you." "Mommy's busy." Or my favorite, "Give it to Daddy."
I read an article the other day, and I wish I'd saved it. I can't find it now. To paraphrase:
When Amber or Avery rush over to me with a spoon in their hands to feed me, they are reaching out. They are literally giving me all they have and they best they can imagine. They're not feeding me out of some obligation. They are reciprocating my care for them. They aren't handing me that phone because someone wants to talk to me on the other end. They're handing me the phone because they imagine one of their favorite people is talking and think that I will want in on the fun. Or they see me on the phone and think it must be something I already enjoy doing--I'm not sure which. Either way, it's pure love. And who am I, to say that I already have so much love in my life that I don't need it from these perfect little girls? No matter how many dishes need to be done, no matter what is in danger of being slightly burnt in the kitchen, no matter how tired I am, I have time to pretend to eat some ice cream off the end of that spoon. I have time to answer the phone in my highest-pitched voice. Because anything less I will someday regret.