One day, when my children are grown, I hope they still come through that front door without knocking. I hope they head to the kitchen for a snack and rifle through the mail looking for a magazine they always read. I hope they come in and feel the weight of adulthood leave them, for they are home. For my children, my door will forever be open. Above all else. I hope they know this without me telling them. Love speaks clearly enough.
The more people have studied different methods of bringing up children the more they have come to the conclusion that what good mothers and fathers instinctively feel like doing for their babies is the best after all.