F. checked out (for the third time) a book titled My Mom is Trying to Ruin My Life. I’m beginning to get a complex. When I joked if he was trying to tell me something he shrugged in reply. Then smiled. He’s got the comedic timing of a seasoned stand-up.
F. is too cool for school. He doesn’t want me to acknowledge him in front of his friends. If I could wait on the curb with the engine running, that would be just fine with him.
“Ruining his life!” I grouse to my husband. As if.
Luckily my kindergartener A. still thinks I have super hero powers. (That’s a story for another day.)
Today, while volunteering at the school, A. ran up to me and threw his arms around my legs in an embrace when I walked into his classroom. It was a greeting worthy of a veteran returning home after a two-year overseas tour. Ah, it’s nice to be wanted.
Other kids get equally excited to see moms not their own.
“Can I be next?” Kids are lining up to practice counting coins with me.
“Absolutely,” I pat the child-sized chair for her to sit down.
She breaks into a smile and happily scouts her chair closer to mine. I have witnessed this same sweet girl running and screaming from her mother as if the woman was carrying fire.