My Shadow

on 15 November 2013

I like that my children like me.

Seems strange, I know, most mothers seem really excited when their kids go their own way and do their own thing.  And I think it's fine when my kids do that.  I remind myself that I gave them life because I want them to live it, but I still miss them when they're off doing their own thing.

I worked really hard when they were babies to get them to like me.  I nursed them and carried them all the time.  I don't play toys with my kids, but if they bring me a book (and I can), I stop whatever I'm doing and read to them.  I never refuse to cuddle them or hug them or kiss them.  I sing to them whatever they ask for, whenever they ask for it.  I periodically sit and eat cookies with them at 10 o'clock in the morning, just for fun and because I can.  We go out behind our apartment and run and chase and play every afternoon, just for fun and because we can.  I pull the futon mattress down onto the living room floor and we have pillow fights and wrestle and play.

So I like that they like me.

To say nothing of the fact, that sights like these crack me up: