Whenever I’m away from the kids for a few days, I miss them tons, and I’m the most patient and loving and awesome mom in the world when I get home. For at least six hours.
Seamus clearly missed me a lot, too, because as soon as I walked in the kitchen, weighed down by many bags, he chanted this at the top of his lungs:
Who’s the best mom in the world?
What a sweetie, I thought. Then he continued:
Actually she’s probably not but maybe she is!
I love how his characteristic, piercing honesty crept in there, but then he rallied to spare any possible hurt feelings. From where he stands, I’m probably not the best mom in the world, but when he’s running a temp and I’ve been gone for two and a half days and I finally come back, he can squint, and round up, and maybe I am.
I can live with that.