All four of my boys are very attached and devoted to me which I think is pretty typical for little boys (well, at least for boys with rockin' moms like me). Spring7 has always hated when I get hugs and kisses from other men, meaning males other than himself. Men like his father. When Spring7 was a toddler/preschooler and my husband (his name is Mike, by the way) sat next to me on the couch, Spring7 would yell, climb on my lap, suck his thumb and glare menacingly at his father as if to say, "You may have been here first but she's mine now, loser." Interestingly, he's a great big brother and is more than happy to share me with his little brothers. The two big boys do fight over me but I can live with that kind of attention. My joke is that someday when I'm old and frail, I'll hear the boys walking down the hall of my nursing home arguing over who gets to pull my plug.
Summer10 still likes to hang out with me and Fall21months wouldn't let me out of his sight until fairly recently but of course it's Winter3 who has the most unusual obsession. Freud would love this one...Winter3 loves my hair. Not just to pat and twist around a finger when he's upset but he soothes himself by holding a strand of my hair and sucking his thumb. A lovey, if you will. A little piece of me. Sometimes, maybe at naptime or bedtime, he'll ask very sweetly, "Mommy, a piece-a hair, please?" Okay, so maybe I'm feeding into this obsession but how can I say no to that? What I don't like is when he sneaks up behind me and yanks a piece-a hair on his own. Ouch! What embarrasses me is when I have to explain this whole hair thing in public. A close friend told Winter3, "Let me get that yucky piece of hair off you." I had to stop her, "Please don't take his hair! It's his piece-a hair!" Even worse, if he gets hurt or upset when we're out somewhere and starts wailing, "I NEED A PIECE-A HAAAAIIIIRRR!" People will say, "What does he need?" Being the mom I am, I pretend that I have no idea what Winter3 is talking about. "Hmm, I think he bumped his head. He's not making any sense." Then we retreat into a corner so I can run my hands through my hair and get a nice long strand.
Clearly, my apron strings are made of pieces-a hair. Maybe someday he'll marry a woman with hair like Crystal Gayle and then my job will be done. Until then, let's just hope I don't go bald.