Starts with 'L" and Ends With "E"

Disclaimer: This post includes a superfluous introduction which is not needed in any way, shape or form. If you’d like to skip the introduction, I give you full permission to do so; as opposed to other times in which I do not give permission, but you undoubtedly do it anyway.

I’ve highlighted the beginning of the actual story for your ease of finding it; I’m a giver.

In case you don’t know, I love being a mom. I’m not saying it’s the easiest thing I have ever done. Nor is it the job I have done the best work.

It’s difficult to be “on” 24-7, I have to admit. I am thankful to have a partner in it, for sure!

And I, as with most (dare I say all of us) were best at parenting before we had kids.

It’s easy to sit on the sidelines and critique when you don’t fully understand what you’re talking about. You may have good head knowledge but being in the trenches is something completely different.

I don’t say this lightly or flippantly or with any real criticism…I’m admitting my own faults, as well as pointing out those of others.

I’m an equal-opportunity blamer.

I don’t know where I’m really going with all this rambling except to say that parenting is the most difficult job I’ll ever love and give my all at.

Now, do I give my everything all the time? Nope. Sometimes I mail it in. Probably more often than I would care to admit.

And do I get paid? Well, not in dollars (although that would be kind of nice, wouldn’t it’? To have that perk as well? Some people might try to be better parents if they got paid to take good care of the kids.)

But I digress. This post was not intended as a diatribe on how to parent, or what makes a good parent, or a criticism of people who don’t take the time to parent…ever…or well.

Nor did I intend to include every known cliché on parenting and its rewards, trials, etc.; I don’t mean to brag, but I think I totally nailed it.

All I really wanted to tell you was a very short story about one of my favorite children, but being as I have this stupid New Year’s Resolution (I am beginning to rue my decision to write for ten minutes every day…it’s proving to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated…don’t judge.), I have written an entire extraneous introduction to my very short story for your reading pleasure.

You are welcome.

Here’s the story, just in case you were wanting to skip down to it:

Snuggling with my 10yo at bedtime a couple days ago, we had the following conversation:

Me: You give some of the best hugs…did you know that?

10yo: Know why my hugs are so great? I’ll give you a hint…it starts with “L” and ends with “E”. And it’s four letters.

In my mind, I thought: He may not be good at riddles, but awe…what a sweetie I have in him. He knows how to push my buttons, but he also knows how to make my heart sing.

Me: (playing along) Ummmm is it “love”?

10yo: Nope….it’s “lice”.

For. The. Love.

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