Just Like Mommy

“Just Like Mommy,” Friend, June 2008, 34–35

Just Like Mommy

I love to see the temple. I’m going there someday (Children’s Songbook, 95).

Just Like Mommy, left page
Just Like Mommy, right page

Illustrations by Mark Robison

Four-year-old Genny stared at the picture of her mom in a long, white dress. “Mommy, you look just like a princess going to a ball. Is that a castle behind you?” Genny asked. “I felt like a princess that day, but that’s not a castle. I’m at the temple,” Mom said with a smile. “It’s my wedding day.” She put Genny on her lap. “Daddy and I were sealed in the temple six years ago,” Mom said. “We were promised that our family can be together forever.” “Was I sealed at the temple too?” Genny asked. “You and your brother and any other children we have are sealed to us forever just by being born into our family,” Mom said. Genny liked the sound of forever. She looked at the picture again. “You look so pretty, Mommy.” “Would you like to see my wedding dress?” Mom asked. “Yes,” Genny said. In her bedroom, Mom took a white plastic bag from the closet. She unzipped it and pulled out a beautiful white dress. It had long sleeves, each with a row of tiny buttons. “Can I touch it?” Genny asked. Mom nodded. Genny gently touched the fabric. “It’s so soft.” “My mother helped me pick it out,” Mom said. “It’s the most special dress I’ll ever have.” Genny threw her arms around her mom. “When I grow up, I want to go to the temple and be sealed just like you and Daddy.” Mom said, “That’s just what Daddy and I want you to do.”