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My son loves to collect and carry around “treasures.”  He finds random things around his room or the house and finds a bag or small box (or anything that can hold a little stash of collectibles) and carries them around.  The other day I set out a big box and suggested to him that we fill it up with some “treasures” from his room and take it into the living room to play with. 

He hopped into the box.  Sat down in it.  Smiled big! 

I know he wasn’t trying to tell me such an abstract concept such as him being my treasure (I think he wanted to play the “don’t rock the boat” game where we pull him around the house and sway the box back and forth until he topples out) but that was the message I got.  My treasure.  He is my treasure.

And nothing, ever in this world will change that!

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