Today I watched my youngest daughter, Niamh,
perform a wonderful act of love –
she ate the stew that I had prepared for dinner.

Dinner had not quite gone according to plan.
I had made stew, a favourite of mine.
But while I tucked in my family members,
one by one, conceded defeat,
made their excuses,
pushed their bowls of stew over to me
and left the table.
Eventually only Niamh and I remained.

Four bowls of stew were now in front of me,
and I was disappointed to see my favourite dinner
going to waste.
Then I brightened as I thought,
“At least the cat can get the mince!”

Niamh, meanwhile struggled on,
though I could see this was difficult for her.
She looked up, caught me looking at her
and said, defensively, “I’m eating my mince!”

Immediately I thought,
“Niamh’s eating the cat’s dinner!”
and I exploded,
laughing so hard that it hurt
and I could hardly breathe.
I scribbled out a quick note
to explain my unexpected behaviour.

That was the end of the stew.
It was a truly memorable dinner
because of the hilarity that it caused.
But it was also memorable
because of Niamh’s dogged determination
to eat a dinner that she detested
to spare my feelings.

It really was
a wonderful act of love.

(c) Claire Murray