OK, confession time.
My son and I play a very silly game. Sometimes we'll be playing it and my husband will just look at us askance like we're from a different planet. But I still defend that it holds purpose.
Before I tell you about the game, I want to explain that I believe there is a unique bond between a mother and a son. It's different than any other relationship on the planet. I'm mostly at a loss for words to describe it, but I think non-sexually romantic and sweet is how I'd start. There's somewhat of a mutual admiration and fierce devotion that is very special for mothers and sons, and I've seen it in action in other families as well.
And that will help you to understand our little game. So I'll say "I love you," and he'll say "I love you more" and then I'll say "I love you more than ______________," and he will try to one-up me and say what he loves me more than. There's times it's more hilarious than one could possibly imagine, like "I love you more than band-aids," and then there's the really deep ones, like this one he said to me the other night: "I love you more than Star Wars Legos."
"Whoa," I said. And I knew I'd have to come up with something huge to top that.
"I love you more than books."
"Oh," he replied in amazement. "That's a lot. 'Cause you really love books, Mom." Yes, it is a lot, Sweetie. But, honestly, there's not even a comparison.
Which made me wonder: do our kids see where our priorities lie? Do they know we'd take a bullet for them? Do they understand how they rank in matters of importance? Because the average observer might not. By the way I spend my time on errands, cleaning, cooking, working, reading, writing, cleaning, cooking, laundry, talking on the phone, sending e-mails - well, you can't really tell my priorities by how I spend my time. And to hear me talk to him sometimes you might wonder as well. One time my kids asked me why I was so bossy. Yeah. Ouch. So I'll keep playing my game with him because you know what? Some days it's all I've got. My one chance to show him how much he really means to me.
So bring on the rolling-of-eyes, Husband, Dear. I love you more than books too.
Next time . . . daughters!
