Monday, July 27, 2015

A Duckling Called Love

Ducklings in City Creek Park, a block away from Temple Square in Salt Lake City, are an event--even a Sabbath delight.

A family, who had been strolling by the Temple, caught sight of the ducklings, and an excited mother quickly steered children toward the pond, as Dad crouched down by the bank to shoot some pictures. They appeared to be an assortment: Mom, Uncle, Dad, Aunt, and the various 'ducklings.'

"They don't have any names," I offered. "Nobody's given them any names yet!"

The children eagerly responded. A wee Fairhair, pointing out her duckling, cried out: "That one's Grandma."

Paddling nearby were two female mallards, and one of the mothers said: "Look, two mommy ducks!" Fairhair, not-quite-three, immediately corrected her: "No! It's the mommy and the daddy!"

There came to mind a story from President Boyd K. Packer: "Hey there, you little monkeys. You'd better settle down." "I not a monkey, Daddy; I a person!" ("Little Children," Conference Report, October 1986).

What about that yellow duckling named Grandma? Childish absurdity? You never know. . . "Grandma" might have been any of the young ladies present. To the little ones, Grandma has nothing to do with age anyhow--what do they care about age?--and everything to do with Love.

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