Other Mom

I tucked my son in and gave him a hug. As I got up to leave, he said:

“Mom, I liked your hugs better before."

"What do you mean, honey?” I asked.

”I liked them when your hands were slippy."

"You mean from cream?” I asked.

”And cold,” he said, “They were cold. As cold as rocks and dirt."

"Yes, my hands are sometimes cold, honey."

"And you had more of them."

"More of what, honey?"

"More hands. You wrapped me tight in them and I felt safe.”

My heart skipped a beat. His imagination was too much sometimes.

”What are you talking about, honey?"

"Nothing mom,” he smiled, “I want to sleep now."

"Okay, baby. Sweet dreams.”

And as I was shutting the door, he murmured something softly. Something that sounded like “I liked it better when we used to go to sleep in the morning.”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk