They say having a son is like going through the longest break-up of your life.
Last week at the park, I offered him my hand, which he always takes, except this time he chose to walk by himself. Yesterday when I smothered him with kisses, he told me to stop. Little daggers to my heart, but there’s a part of me in awe of watching him grow into his own person.
Isn’t that the goal of parenting? To raise a kind, passionate, resilient person who thinks on his own, is confident in his own abilities, and advocates for others? The goal is to teach him not to need me - to stand on his own two feet without handholding, to love himself first and foremost.
Perhaps to get him there, I need to hug and love him now, as much as I can…when he’ll let me.
