Sweet baby fusses from the bouncer while I fix dinner
Looking, stretching for me to hold him.
“You’re fine, you don’t need me,” I croon.
Baby boy hesitates to let go and take steps away from me
Unsure how to move forward, how not to fall
I reassure him, “You’re fine, you don’t need me.”
My son goes to a friend’s house while I go to an appointment
I am desperately hoping to reassure both of us with an apprehensive…
“You’re fine, you don’t need me.”
He timidly inspects the new play set in the yard.
Motions for me to go down the slide with him.
“You’re fine, you don’t need me!” I cheer.
“Mommmmyyyyy! Can you come wipe me?”
He hollers from the downstairs bathroom.
“You’re fine, you don’t need me,” I encourage.
He begs for me to sleep in his bed with him all night
He holds my face in his sweet little hands and pleads with his eyes.
“I will snuggle til you fall asleep, but bubba, you’re fine, you don’t need me,” I try to convince him.
I go upstairs to shower, I hear him follow and shout, “Mommy! Come down here!”
He needs me close. Wants my attention always.
“You’re fine, you don’t need me,” as I hustle through my shower routine.
He wraps his sweet arms around my long (to him) leg as we enter the classroom.
This is all so new. He has always had his mama to do the new things with him.
I try to hold it together as I nod and say, “You’re fine, you don’t need me.”
He adjusts his jersey and gives me a nervous look from the sideline.
These kids seem bigger than him. Or maybe I just see him as my baby forever.
I whisper, mostly to myself, “You’re fine, you don’t need me.”
One day when he packs up his things and moves to his own place,
I will hug this grown man as if he is the tiny boy that once wrapped himself around me.
With confidence, he will reassure me… “You’re fine, Mom, you don’t need me.”