“Boys and their mothers have a different relationship than girls and their mother. It’s just…special. You’ll see.”
Mommies everywhere began telling me that in their most misty-eyed, cherish-every-moment voices when we found out that we would be having a boy.
I was skeptical, because I understood girls. I “got” girls. And I was nervous about boys.
But they were right.
It is different.
Like, super different.
Like, super awkward different.
And now he has apparently embedded a subcutaneous chip on my person so that any and every time I go to the bathroom, he is alerted so that he can be sure to join me – you know, for some quiet bonding time away from his sister who knows better.
He can be three miles away playing at a friend’s house, but the second I plant my feet on a tile floor and sit down for a moment of alone time, he will run home and join me in the bathroom with a huge, mischievous grin on his face.
And if I try to break it to him gently and say “Noah, Mommy needs some privacy,” he will say “Okay Mommy!!” then shut the door and lean against the inside of it, still grinning.
From what I can tell, this bathroom bond can only be broken by the discovery and destruction of seven horcruxes.
And there was yesterday.
I got him up from his nap, and as is customary, he gave me a kiss.
But it wasn’t his usual kiss, which is big, sloppy, and fully-tongue-involved (despite my many lessons of CLOSING ONE’S MOUTH FOR KISSING.) No – this kiss was nearly closed-mouth with zero wetness.
I heard Heavenly Hosts singing. I marveled in his beautiful accomplishment. And as I was basking in the glory of not being saliva-covered, he interrupted the angels to say,
“Tongue one now, Mommy.”
Then licked me from chin to forehead.
Happy Valentine’s Day to me.