Yes, I’m that mom—the one who hangs around after preschool drop-off, waiting in the bathroom while my little guy washes his hands. I’m the one who pulls out the paper towel for him, turns off the faucet, and ensures every bit of soap is rinsed off his tiny hands.
I’m the mom who strolls him to the breakfast table, announcing what’s on the menu, even though it’s crystal clear. While other kids are already seated, diving into their breakfast, pouring their own cereal and milk, I’m setting up a Styrofoam bowl and a plastic spoon for my son, guiding his hand as he pours from the cereal container. I squat beside him, chatting about what he’s excited to do at school today and what we’ll do when I pick him up later.
I’m the mom who lingers for as long as he needs me, waiting for him to say goodbye. If he asks me not to leave, I lean my forehead against his and tell him we’re locking our thoughts together—whenever he thinks of me, I’ll think of him too. I shower him with kisses and hugs, promising they’ll stick with him throughout the morning, even after I’m gone. I’m the last parent left at preschool; all the others have dashed off after ushering their kids inside.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably leave a bit earlier. I might slip out right after he washes his hands, letting him ask the teacher for help at breakfast if he needs it. Or maybe I won’t. Perhaps my routine of nurturing him at school will continue for weeks or months. Honestly, I’m not concerned. I don’t need to keep track or make sudden changes, deciding that one day I’ll step back and encourage his independence.
It will happen naturally. One day, he’ll want to tackle everything on his own. Before I know it, he’ll be chatting away with friends at school, completely forgetting I’m even there.
Before long, he’ll be just like my 9-year-old, who still allows me to kiss him goodbye but promptly wipes it away as he rushes off to line up for class. I’ve stopped feeling guilty about being so nurturing. I no longer compare my son to others at preschool, the park, the grocery store, or on social media. He’ll only be little for a short time, and only he and I know when my pampering phase will come to an end.
We’re in the midst of our own mother-child rhythm. Sometimes we’re so close that we connect. Other times, one of us drifts away, exploring our own little worlds before returning. We know our steps well, although most of the time, we’re just making it up as we go, dancing purely from instinct and love.
What I do for my son brings him comfort, and why shouldn’t I offer that? It makes his daily separations from me smoother and more manageable. The world can be overwhelming at times, which might lead some parents to push for independence sooner. But that’s precisely why I want to give him the warm embrace of closeness for as long as I can.
I could encourage him to grow up faster without any harm, but I choose to take it slow because I can, and he wants me to. Because before I know it, he won’t want this anymore, and I’ll miss those moments dearly.
Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, a devoted mother shares her experiences of nurturing her young son through his preschool years. She embraces her role in providing comfort and support, choosing to take her time with his development. Rather than rushing him toward independence, she values the closeness they share and acknowledges that these moments will soon become memories.