The things you Google.
My husband reckons my middle son tells me he loves me too often. I thought, that can’t be right. But there’s no rule book on these things so I decided to Google. And since it doesn’t know me (or does it?), and it doesn’t know my son, Google would be objective.
‘My son tells me he loves me too often.‘
Google had hundreds of thousand of ideas, but not one of the hits on the five pages I scrolled through before I gave up, mentionioned too much loving on the child’s part. Mothers can love too much. Or not enough. My son never tells me he loves me featured strongly. The first hit was the the worst one; my son tells me he loves me but I hate him. Sad, real and not applicable to us.
I decided not too worry. If nobody’s asked Google then it ain’t a problem because Google is asked every question imagined. For instance: recently I had occasion to ask, ‘Is my mother a sociopath?’ Google came up with over half a millions hits in less than two seconds and I was able to fast deduce that Mum’s not a sociopath, she’s rare.
Days after the Googling my husband began telling my son to stop saying he loved me. My husband worries about our middle guy. He worries about him being vulnerable, he’d love to see our son develop a thicker skin. I’m concerned, too but I figure we’ll take it as it comes.
Anyway, wait a minute. This kid isn’t saying, ‘pass the salt, Mum,’ he doesn’t have Fred Fredburger on repeat nor is he dropping the F-word. He’s telling his mother he loves her.
He could be saying it because he feels insecure. But it doesn’t sound like a question. He might be saying it when he feels it. Great for me and good for him if I don’t ignore. Maybe he sings out, ‘Love you, Mum’ because he thinks I need it. My sister died last June, it hasn’t been easy and I don’t have the happiest face you’ve ever seen. I do need it.
The thing is, my middle son is twelve. Sooner of later he may stop telling me he loves me. The frequency may slow, from several times an hour, to bedtime, to birthdays, to when I try to make him say it (and I would try, believe me).
I have been thinking about this for a while. Stirring the little worry that it may be part of his ADD – he’s distracted, he’s immature, he’s weird. I almost started to believe it, he really does say I love you too much! Today we got home, school bags dumped, got the rice crackers and Milo out, I was sitting on the couch thinking about what to tackle next, when my son walked past on his way outside.
I looked up and said, ‘love you, babe.’
I do it, too. Yeah, I say I love you to my sons a lot.
Either we’re both wrong or there’s nothing wrong with us and we gotta whole lotta love.