I was playing “doctor” with my 3 year old today. He had me lie down on the couch as he strategically identified every one of my body parts that needed “fixing”.
He started at my toes, and with precision and focus he used masking tape to fix all my broken bones. Broken toes… Broken knees… Broken hips… Broken ribs… He taped me back together like the little surgeon he was pretending to be.
He then looked me in the eyes, and leaned over and gave me a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. My boy, I thought.
But his kiss came with a purpose. Because he then explained that “Tape won’t fix your broken heart, Mommy. But a kiss will.”
Touched, but also somewhat concerned, I asked him why he thinks Mommy has a broken heart.
He looked at me like I had two heads, “Because we’re playing doctor, and I’m fixing all your broken bones. And only a kiss will fit a broken heart.” Duh…
These little moments. The ones that seemingly mean so little to him, yet so much to me.
For all the nights I lay awake questioning if I am doing right by them as their mother, were just answered by my boy’s sweet kiss.
He is more than good. He is thriving. Happy. Loving. Smart. I am doing right by them.
So while there is no need to fix my broken heart… he certainly does know how to heal a mother’s heart that is bursting with love.