Even at 13-years-old, my son and I continue our running argument: “I love you more than you love me!” and “You’re more special!” No one ever wins this, but we each like to have the last word, to the point of hiding notes around the house, hoping the other won’t notice to refute our last statement. -Janene, mother of two
He begins to tell me about his day, and then stops, saying, “Oh, how are you, Mom?” -Janene, mother of two
While lying in bed, nursing my baby girl, she occasionally took a break, tilted her head toward me and made kissing noises. I leaned down and kissed her. Then she went back to nursing. About a minute later, she stopped, looked up at me, and made kissing noises again. I promptly complied with her wishes. This happened four times. It melted my heart.