Pillow Talk

Ohhhh. My 5 year old. 

I knew what he was trying to say… Because I’d just told him, as we were squished like sardines in a can atop the bunk beds. During our bedtime chatter. Where we talked of his friend Sam. And what he’d draw first in the morning. And how he just likes to be friends with alllll of his class. I’d told him that I was so proud to get to be his mama. He told me he loved me. And so I had just told him that I would always love him, whether he was 5 or 12 or 64. So when he said his words, after I’d just told him — one of my hands, pressed up against my ear, trying to hold my head up against the urge to close my eyes right there and spend the duration of the night resting beside him, desperately hoping that it would replicate the feeling of his heart beating inside of my body — told him that none of us is perfect but that we can choose, every day, to be the very best versions of ourselves. And that even his dad and I have to make that choice. Because nobody is perfect. And to that, he had the most perfect reply my ears could have ever received. 

“I don’t need a perfect mommy. I need you.” 

And I immediately wrapped my arms around that tiny old soul. Surely he’d had to have heard me utter similar words before. Or I’d loosely used the same sentiments. I doubt he came up with the idea all on his own. But through the lips of my five year old, the thought possessed the perfect mix of humor and heart. And my heart may have immediately turned into a whole mess of mush.

I don’t need a perfect mommy. I need you.  

Thank goodness, I thought. Thank goodness.