For some months, Ethan was presenting me with note after carefully-penned note that said, “I love you Mom.”
I wanted to keep every single one of them, but he must have given me 50 over the course of three months, and, well, as much as it broke my heart to do it, I had to pick and choose which ones to keep and which ones to let go.
Then for a period there was a drought. No notes.
It made me a little sad.
I wondered if that part of his life were over, if he’d suddenly decided (as I worried in this post) that it was no longer cool to express love for his mom.
But lo, my spirits were soon lifted when he proudly presented me with this:
It seems he just moved into another medium. No more the simply scrawled “I love you mom” notes where the letters may or may not be drawn in the same line as they should be.
No, he has moved straight into artistry and voice bubbles drawn on balloons.
If I think about it too much, I’ll probably miss the misshapen letters and wrapped-around words of his notes from before, the ones scratched onto triple-lined paper from school or the back of a bill or in the midst of a picture of a submarine, but I’m happy.
He still loves his mama.