Some people would say that Lamb’s going through a phase.
He clings to me at every moment he’s not with his sister.
He whines at my feet when I’m cooking and begs to be carried. Today, he pushed his head into my butt when I was trying to do a stir-fry.
He wants to nurse twice, sometimes three or four times a day. And he’s absolutely, totally and gigantically pleased when he gets to.
He wants to nurse at awkward moments occasionally. Today, he pummeled me when I refused. I was cooking at the time. Of course I meted out appropriate consequences. Hitting is absolutely forbidden in our family, Lamb knows that. But that isn’t the point.
There are times when I feel a wee bit irritated. This morning, he called out to me from the toilet as he needed help to clean up after a poo. I’d had a late night before, catching up on chores. I got up wearily from my tea and toast. Wiping a dirty bum in the midst of breakfast is one of the mommy jobs I love least.
When I got to the bathroom, he hugged me around the knees. “Mama?” he said.
“I love you.”
“Because I love you.” His legs dangle from the toilet seat.
It’s slightly past his bedtime now. He’s snuggled up against me and says, “I wanna lie down on your lap.
“Because I’m tired.”
Go up to bed then. You can go to bed with Papa.
“No, I like you. I like you to cuddle with me.”
I’d loathe to say Lamb’s going through “a phase”. He just loves me in the only 2-year-old-way he knows how. And it won’t last forever.
Okay then, Lamb. Love me. Do.