It’s simple. My world revolves around my almost-6-year-old son. He makes life worth living, worth fighting for, and the future worth dreaming about. The moppet is sharper than a whip and can throw unbelievably long tantrums. He can turn on the tears in a nanosecond and take forever to calm down, especially because I don’t usually fall for the waterworks. My mother - who he’s very close to - says we share a strange relationship. If you couldn’t see us together but just heard our conversations, it would sound like he was my younger brother - that’s what she says. It probably stems from his attachment with my mother, who has played a very vital role in raising him for most of his life.
When he was younger, he would get awfully jealous if I hugged her or she hugged me in front of him. “She’s my mother and my grandmother, nothing to you!” he would declare forcefully and leap into her arms. He’s learnt to “share” her with me and I unabashedly use that to my advantage whe I need to get him to do something.
He’ll be six in a couple of weeks and I can’t still believe that I’ve been blessed with the little darling. He is more than a handful most of the time, but like I said, he makes life worth living.
I have another blog, but this one is going to be the story of his childhood - incidents past and present.
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