It’s always said with a sneer. No boy wants to be called that. It’s worse than being told “you throw like a girl.” (And for the record, I grew up throwing just as hard, fast, and far as my brothers.) But it’s something boys fear, fathers fear, and mothers fear. As though a mother’s love is going to twist a boy’s budding manhood.
Lately I’ve been reading a lot of books about raising boys. They all seem to agree; a child cannot get enough love. Many of the books talked about the importance of the mother-son bond because the mother is the one who usually teaches empathy and emotions. Imagine what the world would be like if more people were in touch with their emotions and could empathize with other people.
Which leads me to Tornado S. He’s my cuddler, my love-bug. He tells me he loves me all the time. I want to save up those words because I know one day the world will tell him he shouldn’t tell me so often, if at all. And as I hug and kiss him, I know the world will tell him he doesn’t need my love.
I remember covering him with kisses as a baby, thinking, “These are going to have to last you until you find a mate, and they are going to have to be strong enough to carry you through heartache and loneliness, until you find home again.”
Because in the end, we are the model to teach our children to find a partner. We are the home they will try to recreate. We are the love that will guide them until they are no longer alone.