Yes, I’m that mom—the one who hangs around after preschool drop-off, waiting in the bathroom as my son washes his hands, pulling out a paper towel for him, turning off the tap, and ensuring he rinses all the soap off his tiny hands.
I’m the mom who leads him to the breakfast table and announces what’s for breakfast, even though it’s clearly laid out. While other kids are already seated, pouring their own cereal or asking the teacher for assistance, I’m right there, laying out a Styrofoam bowl, a plastic spoon, and a napkin for him. I guide his hand as he fills his bowl with cereal and sit next to him for a few moments, chatting about his day ahead and our plans for later.
I’m the mom who stays as long as he wants, lingering until he’s ready to say goodbye. When he asks me not to leave, I touch foreheads with him, reminding him that we’re sharing our thoughts—whenever he thinks of me, I’ll think of him too.
I shower him with hugs and kisses, promising that they’ll stick with him throughout the morning, even after I go. I’m often the last parent at preschool, while others slip away soon after their children enter.
Tomorrow, I’ll try to leave a little sooner. I might step back after he washes his hands and let him ask the teacher for help with breakfast if needed. Maybe I’ll stand just outside the bathroom door while he manages on his own.
Or perhaps I won’t. Maybe I’ll continue to baby him for a few more weeks or even months. Honestly, I’m not worried about rushing things. There’s no need to track every moment or force him to become independent right away. It will happen naturally. One day, he’ll want to do everything himself, and I know he’ll eventually arrive at school, chatting with friends and forgetting I’m there.
Before long, he’ll be like my 9-year-old, who occasionally allows me to kiss him goodbye but then wipes it away as he dashes off to line up for class.
I’ve stopped apologizing for caring for my son. I no longer compare him to other kids or parents at preschool, the playground, or online. He will only be this little for a short time, and only we can determine when the “babying” ends.
We’re in the midst of our unique mother-son dance. Sometimes we’re close, and other times one of us drifts away, only to return for a moment. The steps we take are our own, often improvised, driven by love.
The comfort I provide him is important, especially as he navigates the daily separation from me. The world can feel daunting at times, and while some parents rush their kids toward independence, I want to offer him the security of closeness for as long as possible.
I know I could push him to be more independent without harm, but I choose to take it slow because I can, and because he still wants me to. Before I know it, he’ll be ready to move on, and I’ll miss these moments dearly.
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In summary, savoring those precious moments with your child is invaluable, and every stage of their growth is a dance we share, guided by love and instinct.