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he tall man was on his cell phone. His three year old daughter was near by rolling around on the floor, giggling, having a good time while her daddy took care of business and kept an eye on her.

Wandering around before my flight boarded, I gathered some magazines and something to drink, then settled in a chair at the gate.

While waiting to board, the tall man and his daughter appeared, joined by his wife and their younger son. Both children were in car seats attached to carry on luggage such that they were being wheeled behind their parents. It was cute and I was impressed she’d agreed to give up running around the airport to be strapped in to her seat.

They made a spot for themselves in front of me, turning their luggage so that the siblings could see each other and be flanked by the parents.

All blond curls and blue eyes, I couldn’t take my eyes off the little girl. Soon she struggled to take a shoe off. Her daddy said, “No, leave it on. Leave your shoe on.”

She said, “No! Off!” Didn’t do any good.

Her eyes lit up then her face scrunched up and then she said, “Owe-y!”

He tried to ignore her so her little foot shot straight up in the air and she looked at him repeating, “Owe-y! Owe-y! Owe-y!”

She won. He helped her take her shoe off and offered to take the second one off as well. So she gave him the other foot.

She studied her pretty blue socks for awhile. Then the face lit up again. First the right foot was in her hands, sock coming off, and sock getting stuffed down in the drink holder in her car seat.

Now the left foot in her hands, sock coming off, and sock getting stuffed down in the same drink holder. With feet free she put one foot in her hands and then the other, studying them like prized possessions.

I giggled, “That’s so cute!”

She heard me, locked eyes with me, then threw both feet in the air, admired them, and squealed, “Toes!”

“Yes! Toes!” I said. “Toes are good!”

She broke eye contact – a little self-conscious holding a stranger’s attention when you’re three years old.

She thought for a moment then looked at her brother and squealed, “Brother!”

“Yes! Little brother! Little brothers are good stuff!” I said back.

Her parents were enjoying her glee but now I was self-conscious and, not wanting to insert myself into this family any further, I took advantage of someone needing a seat and hopped up, offering them mine, creating some distance while we waited to board…and some time to ponder a rising memory.

When I was about a year older than this little girl, I was waiting to have my picture taken. I was barefoot and in my boredom had discovered the soft pad of my pinky toe and how it was shaped differently from the rest – like a triangle.

Spacing out while waiting to pose, I played with it until I heard an adult voice say, “Sallie! Stop playing with your feet!” I froze, my face fell, and my insides hurt with shame. I was still able to smile for the camera but never completely got over the feeling that I’d done something rather disgusting and maybe that even meant I was that as well.

Coming back to the present, appreciating the ease with which this little girl’s parents let her express herself, seeing her dad smile and say to someone’s comment on her shoeless state, “Yeah, she’s a country girl,” and how no adult in the immediate area seemed offended at her fascination with her feet and toes; I felt something inside relax and unravel.

It meant something to share positively in an experience that reminded me of a painful childhood memory. To be a part of affirming this child had a redemptive effect on my memory of an unfortunate moment when an adult made a mistake, making me feel unacceptable, less than enough.

It happens to all of us – our egos get threatened and we say things and act out in ways that hurt others and make ourselves cringe. I didn’t have the privilege of raising children; but as an eldest sibling, I certainly experienced enough times saying just the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time to make a younger one feel diminished.

As an adult and a Mimi (step-grandmother), Great Aunt Sallie, and a godmother, I get to choose to be generous, funny, compassionate, wise, and present with the babies and growing children in my life. And I get to tickle three sets of feet and toes and say, “I love you. You are beautiful. You are enough,” over and over and over again.

That’s redemption.