“Mum?  What Hero Factree guy you wike?  You wike Strwinger?  You wike Stohmer?  You wike Beez?”

Me: Pax, go to sleep.

[silence]

“Mum?  If you wan’ pway Hero Factree wuf me you can!  You can be Beez, you can be Strwinger, you can be Stor–”

Me:  Honey, it’s bedtime.  We can play in the morning.

“But who you be, Mom?  Beez is girl wike you, wight? She not pee-pee standing up.  Onlee Daddy an’ Waines pee standing up WIKE ME!!”

Me: Um, that’s right.  But Pax, we are in bed.  You are supposed to be sleeping.  Now close your eyes an–

“MOM!  Why you talk so WYIET?  I talk WOWD.”

[I crack up. Dammit!  He got me.]

Me:  Ok, Pax.  I’m talking quietly because it’s sleepytime.  No more talking.  Roll over – I’ll rub your back a little bit.

He launches himself at me, climbing into my arms.  “But MOM.  I need nuggle you!  I’m sad petause it not morning-time and Daddy said no-no Hewo Factree and YOU MY MOM.  You my mom.”

Me:  I am your mom, my love.  And you are my baby.

Pax cuddles in closer.  “Yes.  You my mom.  You my mom….you…my…mom.”

He has always done this.  This…claiming me.  Claiming me as his mother.  Even when he was a tiny baby.  And for Pax, life really comes down to that one simple fact:  I’m his mom.  So when the nanny comes: “I not want her petause you my mom.”  When we’re going somewhere:  “You carry me?  You carry me petause you my mom?”  When snuggling on the couch or in bed or anywhere:  “You nuggle me wike dis?  Petause you my mom.”

It’s like he knows.  He knows I need to hear it.  “You my mom.”  Those words snap me out of  my lost in thought mode, or when I’m distracted by something online.  They give me patience in those late hours when THE KID SHOULD BE SLEEPING.  It helps me to remember that, to a three year old, I’m still his whole world.  So when he’s clingy or whiney or truly terrible (and Pax can be really, amazingly terrible)….the only person he really wants to be with is me.  His main source of comfort?  Me.  When he’s sad or lonely or scared, the person he turns to for reassurance that his life, despite its bumps, is safe and secure and supported, is me.  Petause I’m his mom.  It’s as simple as that.