The other night I was reading book 3 of "The Chronicles of Narnia" to Miguel while he played on the bed. After finishing a chapter, I closed the book and discovered that the back cover was partly torn. "Did you do this?" I asked. "Yes," he said, and continued to play. He wasn't the least bit remorseful and I was upset; after all it was MY book. So I made a big deal as I got the tape and repaired the cover. I told him that I was mad, and went on and on and on. His dramatic reply: "The problem is , (emphatic pause), you don't take the time to teach me." To which I countered, "Oh, so now it's my fault?"
Okay, okay. So being a good, sensitive mother I didn't pounce at that remark. I had him sit on my lap and ask what it is that I'm not teaching him. So he elaborated: "The problem is, you don't take the time to teach me what is right and what is wrong." Patay kang bata ka, I thought, someday you might regret having said that.
But I had to stay in the moment, realizing how much attention he craves from me. So we had a simple heart-to-heart talk. Miguel hugged me while I leaned back on the pillow and told him all the good things about him that I liked, what we had to work on, how glad I was that God gave him to me. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. He just hugged me and after a while he became silent and fell asleep in my arms.
So I was savoring the moment and thinking, what a nice way to fall asleep, realizing that I don't remember ever falling asleep in my mom's arms like that. Well, let's give my mom the benefit of the doubt; maybe she did have those sort of moments with me after all. Miguel might not remember this as well. But I'm hoping that the feeling will last a lot longer than the memory.