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Abstract

"fdd0">“Oh, we do, do we? Okay, shoot. What’s on your mind?”</p><p id="d2e9">I’m grinning from ear to ear trying my darndest not to laugh. He’s very poised and professional for his age and I don’t want him to think that he can’t come and talk to me about whatever is on his mind either.</p><p id="d3e5">“Yes,” he says. “Now Mom do you trust me?”</p><p id="cef5">I must have looked shocked at the intensity and the question itself. He leaned in, took my face in his hands, laid his forehead on mine, and repeated the question.</p><p id="6f99">“Do you trust me?”</p><p id="03b6">“Uh yeah….” not knowing where this was going.</p><p id="097f">“Okay, then you have to stop calling me your baby. I’m not a baby. I’m a little boy. Okay?”</p><p id="8472">I stood there stunned not knowing what to say. Then this comes out of my mouth.</p><p id="b6c2">“Uh okay, are you done? Is that it? Nothing else you wanted to talk about?”</p><p id="cee4">“No.”</p><p id="dfc8">“Okay, so it’s my turn.”</p><p id="c668">I leaned in and put my forehead on his forehead, and I said, “I don’t care if I’m 100 years old and you’re 80, you will always be <b>MY</b> baby. Not get down off the chair before you break your leg!”

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</p><p id="2100">He sighed and rolled his eyes as he climbed down and pushed the chair back under the table.</p><figure id="a478"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*H4Ya7mZRD5CoEvn154PWCA.jpeg"><figcaption>Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/esudroff-627167/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1399332">esudroff</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1399332">Pixabay</a></figcaption></figure><p id="9af3">Tip jar ⬇</p><div id="ea11" class="link-block"> <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/terrylcooper"> <div> <div> <h2>Terry L Cooper is Writing</h2> <div><h3>Hey 👋 I just created a page here. You can now buy me a coffee!</h3></div> <div><p>www.buymeacoffee.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*Royl6Sm-r8jpSjZ7)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Mom, We Need to Have a “Suscussion”

A typical day for a stay-at-home mom.

I’m in the kitchen doing the things that moms do when I notice from the side of my eye my toddler son pulling out one of the dining room chairs. He struggles up into it and stands up.

“Mom? Mere,” he says as he waves me over.

I stop what I’m doing and roll his way, tossing the dish towel over my shoulder. Because that’s what cool moms do. I stand in front of him and he’s dead serious.

“What’s up?”

“Mom, we need to have a suscussion.” (For those of you who are not versed in toddler speak that translates to ‘discussion’.)

“Oh, we do, do we? Okay, shoot. What’s on your mind?”

I’m grinning from ear to ear trying my darndest not to laugh. He’s very poised and professional for his age and I don’t want him to think that he can’t come and talk to me about whatever is on his mind either.

“Yes,” he says. “Now Mom do you trust me?”

I must have looked shocked at the intensity and the question itself. He leaned in, took my face in his hands, laid his forehead on mine, and repeated the question.

“Do you trust me?”

“Uh yeah….” not knowing where this was going.

“Okay, then you have to stop calling me your baby. I’m not a baby. I’m a little boy. Okay?”

I stood there stunned not knowing what to say. Then this comes out of my mouth.

“Uh okay, are you done? Is that it? Nothing else you wanted to talk about?”

“No.”

“Okay, so it’s my turn.”

I leaned in and put my forehead on his forehead, and I said, “I don’t care if I’m 100 years old and you’re 80, you will always be MY baby. Not get down off the chair before you break your leg!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes as he climbed down and pushed the chair back under the table.

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