Just Call Me "Mommy"

Why is it that little people always try and grow up too fast? I vaguely remember that feeling, that rushing when-will-I-be-able-to-eat-candy-for-breakfast sentiment that comes with the irresponsibility and ignorance of youth. When one is young, one wants to be able to make every decision (and then one becomes an adult and making decisions isn't always as much fun as it's cracked up to be).

My four-year-old son recently had the following discussion with me.

R: "Mom, when I was three, I called you "Mommy." Now, when I'm four, I call you "Mom."
Me: "What about Daddy?"
R: "When I was three I called him, "Daddy." Now that I'm four I call him "Dad."

The next day he went on to tell me that when he's five he's calling me "Faith."

Seriously, I know there is a certain amount of independence that comes along with knowing how to read, the ability to state the difference between herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores, and being able to discern the particular type of a dozen different dinosaurs and sharks by sight, but I want to be "Mommy" for at least a few more years. Indefinitely would be better.

I Was Tackled by a Bear

My son has graduated from one sentence emails; he is now writing short stories with his Dad.













"I was tackled by a bear. It felt pretty good. I got hurt. That's too bad."

The End.