Far From The First Loser

Every evening, after brushing his teeth and going to the bathrom, he chooses one of us to lie with him.  Us on the covers, him underneath, we quietly listen to a couple of songs from his “sleep music” before kissing him on the cheek and leaving him (hopefully) to a long, peaceful sleep.  Every night we ask him who is going to lie with him; he usually chooses her, but we ask anyway.

I love mommy a little more than you.

I hadn’t asked him THAT.  It is a loaded question that I already knew the answer to.  I had simply asked who he he wanted to put him to bed, but he felt compelled to offer an explanation.  I was not hurt, his words lacking any purposeful venom.  However, this might, I thought, prove to be an opportunity to teach him something: “That is probably the kinda thing that you should keep to yourself.”


A good, if not predictable, question.  I struggled to assemble  the appropriate words in a way that was simple enough for him to understand: “Most people want to be loved the most, and they can be hurt if you say they are not.”

But I love you a lot too Daddy, I just love mommy too much…

Spontaneously, he jumped into my lap and gave me a large hug and kiss.

…one day I will give that love to you.


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