Because I’m his mommy, I rose at 2:48 this morning to fix my son’s blanket. The blanket that had lumped itself in one corner of his bed. The blanket he could not straighten himself because…because he had me to help him.
And because I’m his mommy, I stretched my whole body beside his, curled my left arm around his fleecy cocoon and whispered, “I love you, son.” At which time he inched away with closed eyes and exhaled, “I just want to get some sleep.”
My husband called moments ago to say our son had forgotten his backpack. The backpack he drags to preschool and hauls home again for the sake of dragging and hauling. The backpack my husband said he would turn around for. Only my son said, “Don’t worry about it dad. This kind of stuff happens to everybody every now and again.”
At which time my husband said, “all right, then,” and hit the gas pedal for preschool.