"I don't like you."

“I don’t like you.”

It surprised me … how lightly and easily
it tripped from precious little angel lips.

“I don’t like you.”

It surprised me … how much it stung
my soul and made me question myself.

“I don’t like you.”

It surprised me … how powerful and
definitive and final the words sound.

“I don’t like you.”

It surprised me … how innocence is lost
So quickly, dressed in just four syllables.

“I don’t like you.”


But, I know he likes me. I know that he was acting out in response to his brother. I know that he was attempting to articulate his frustration and displeasure regarding the injustice he had just suffered. I know all of that. It still made me a little sad.

The truth is, kids just grow up too fast. Even inside of the years I’ve been a mother, I see each younger child advancing at a rate faster than the sibling that preceded him. I can only imagine how much faster it is if compared by generation.

The differences are obvious in curriculum and competition and physical development. I was not expected to read books in Kindergarten (which only lasted 3 hours/day). I could, but it wasn’t expected. I wasn’t worried about state competitions in 3rd grade or about representing my school or my county. I didn’t have B cup hooters in middle school, or high school for that matter.

The one constant, I suppose, is our ability as human beings to take our disappointment and dissatisfaction, wad it into a nice, tight ball, and throw it … hard. Sometimes it hits the right target, sometimes an innocent bystander takes the blow. Words don’t need new computer systems or nuclear technology, their ultimate power has existed forever.

“I don’t like you.”

“But, I love you.”