I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about how difficult it would be if the kids grew up and were bad people (hear me out). Like dickheads that just had a blatant disregard for people’s feelings or god forbid hurt people, emotionally or physically, on purpose. I would feel like such a failure on so many levels. Not to mention devastated.
That’s the scary thing about this raising children stuff: there are no guarantees.
I was putting him to bed on Friday and when I finished his story, he gave me a kiss goodnight. As I was tucking him in, I gave him a reciprocal kiss on the forehead and he quickly reached up and feverishly wiped it off.
I said, “Hey man, don’t wipe my kisses off. What if that hurt my feelings?”
He said earnestly, “Oh Momma, I wasn’t wiping your kisses off, I was just rubbing them in. It makes me feel extra better.”
And I immediately felt extra better too.