One of my favorite “remember when” stories is when my daughter was 3 years old. It was our first Christmas in a new house and she was beginning to grasp the idea of Santa leaving presents on Christmas.

I walked into her room early on Christmas morning to find her sitting in bed crying. “Santa didn’t come,” she said. I didn’t understand until she looked around her room and said, “He didn’t leave presents.” We hadn’t explained where she would find the gifts, so in her mind, if she didn’t see them, there weren’t any. We showed her the gifts by the Christmas tree, and she realized Santa had come, just like mom and dad promised.

Some of my most prized possessions are letters written to me by my husband back when we were dating. When we first met, we lived an hour apart. Then later, I went off to college, three hours away. In the days before cell phones and text messages, letters were the best way to keep in touch. I looked forward to receiving those letters and read those words, written with love, to me.

Written words make more of a lasting impression; they grab our attention. And on days when we begin to question if anyone cares, we can pull out those letters and be reminded that we are special and we are loved.

I blew it as a mom on Thanksgiving morning. All my daughter wanted was for me to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade with her. But I had other things to get done, and the parade was not on my agenda. With a huffy and unpleasant attitude, I joined her in front of the TV. Her bouncy excitement immediately turned to silence while she sat by herself on the couch. I realized how I had squashed her enthusiasm, and all I wanted to do was shout “Do over!”

Remember do overs? As a kid, my friends and I would yell “do over!”