|Why I am the worst mommy in the world
||[Sep. 15th, 2004|06:43 am]
When I had the ultrasound that showed The Boy was, in fact, a boy, my mother told me, "Boys are so sweet. They love their moms."
I heard it over and over, from all my friends who had sons. That boys were sweeter than girls. How much they loved their mothers.
Apparently my son is marching to a different drummer. For the past couple of months, he's been all about Daddy. The other morning, I heard him calling and went in to get him out of the crib. He took one look at me, burst into tears, and cried, "Not you! Not you!"
Last night, I was giving him a bath. He was perfectly happy until Daddy walked in. Then he turned to me and said matter-of-factly, "You can go."
My husband, who is secretly very pleased but kind enough to try to hide it, tells me this is just part of The Boy's "I-want-to-stick-to-the-same-routine-no-matter-what" phase. Last night, he reassured me with "He'll be a mama's boy later." Which is not exactly a comforting thought. Especially if "later" is when he's 35.