From the other room I can hear my son wander across the hall to find my husband in bed. He sleepily asks, "Where's Mommy?" My husband tells him I'm working, and invites him to lay in my spot for a little bit. Instead of scrambling up to take his offer, Z innocently pleas, "But I want her to lay with me."
This isn't a new conversation, and typically I would simply smile and let my husband find a way to comfort him, but tonight, without hesitation, I stop my work and rush to scoop Z into my arms.
Now curled up in a twin bed lined with stuffed animals, feet tucked under blankets, and his head on my shoulder, I repeatedly think that the only thing I never want him to have to say is, "I miss Mommy." But wish, that if he does, my husband will reply, "Me too."
©Erin Croley
Now curled up in a twin bed lined with stuffed animals, feet tucked under blankets, and his head on my shoulder, I repeatedly think that the only thing I never want him to have to say is, "I miss Mommy." But wish, that if he does, my husband will reply, "Me too."
©Erin Croley
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