Sometime love is baking a batch of cookies, messy and time-consuming. You mix and stir, shape and bake, leaving you with spills, dirty bowls and utensils to clean and you wonder why the heck you do it. Then your family gang eats half the batch in one sitting and asks you to make more – and you do because you love them. Sometimes love is a stern warning. “Look both ways before you cross that street.” Your little guys don’t ever think about distracted or hurried drivers who always exceed the neighbourhood speed limits. “I know. You already told me,” they complain as they roll their eyes. But you worry that they forgot so you tell them again – and again – because you love them. Sometimes love is a nagging scolding. “You were careless and didn’t take precautions.” Now you’re rushing him to the clinic for stitches to close a deeply cut finger because a bandage won’t stop the bleeding. You’re panicked by the emergency and you scold continuously as you drive because you love him. Sometimes love is playful as you’re ambushed by a bearish hug from behind, or a torturous tickle on the ribs, or maybe a naughty pat on the bum. This is my favourite kind of love and I reciprocate by immediately giving back in turn. We poke and tickle and pat each other until our bodies are sore and aching from the exchange and then we collapse into embrace breathing hard with laughter because we love each other. Sometimes love is unexpectedly disguised as something else. It’s like a chameleon taking on the color of the moment, necessary yet harmonious with every situation. Love is blind so look carefully. You’ll recognise its subtle way. It’s that special thing we give because love binds us to each other in so many ways.