At almost-five years old, I have no doubt my son’s favorite word is mom, second only to mommy. From the time we get home in the evening until he finally gives in to sleep, I am beholden to an endless stream of requests.
“Mom, I’m hungry.”
“Mom, I’m thirsty.”
“Mommy! I need help in the potty.”
“Mom, where are you?”
Last night, as I read quietly in bed, I heard one last, “Mommy?” from the next room.
“What, buddy?” I try not to sound too exasperated.
“I love you.”
With my heart melting into a puddle, I could no longer concentrate on the book I was reading.
“I love you, too. Go to sleep.”
What a great way to end the day.