My son once said, “Will I be a mommy when I grow up?” I answered, “If you like.”
It is beyond heartwarming to see Lucas take care of what he now refers to as his baby, Sunshine, formerly known as Baby Giraffe. It has been about two weeks now, I think, since he started referring to the little toy as his baby, and he has been pretty consistent in carrying her like a baby, “giving her milk,” and taking her along when he rides her bike.
He picked up an old stormtrooper bottle, and he said that was her milk.
He commandeered a toy truck and declared that it was her crib. When we’re watching a movie, or he’s playing with something else, he puts her gently in the truck and says she’s taking a nap.
When he rides his bike, he asks me to stuff her inside his shirt, either in front or in the back. To make things easier, Oneal found an old harness and rigged it to be a baby carrier for Sunshine.
Sometimes he brings her to meals, and he makes me pretend to feed her before I give him a bite. He sits her on his lap, or places her gently on a chair.
Sometimes, Sunshine sits beside my plate at mealtimes, so he doesn’t play with her. But he still talks to her, and if she, uhm, tells him to eat properly, he actually does! (But when it’s actually me talking, he argues. Hrmph.)
We don’t know how long this will last, but it’s really sweet. Maybe what he means by, “Will I be a mommy?” is “Will I have kids?” Maybe we’re doing something right, if at this age he can be gentle and kind and nurturing.
Maybe he will be a parent someday. Maybe not. Either way, it looks like he’s shaping up to be a caring person, and I couldn’t be prouder.