Last night, after we had played at the park, thrown rocks in the pond, played a scavenger hunt as we walked to the ice cream store, ordered, paid and were walking back to the park with our ice creams, Hunter says to me "Mom, you're my best friend". And with a lump in my throat I told him he was my best friend too.
I remember reading or hearing something one day about how people in the future would look at our pictures and think we were an incredibly happy population. Because we keep the pictures where people look happy and discard the ones where they don't. We take pictures at birthday parties and weddings, but not at funerals or when someone is super sick in the hospital. Yes, it makes sense to do it that way of course; some memories you want to keep.
But even I notice that I do what I can to erase those moments when Hunter has said "I hate Mom." And I know he gets it from his older siblings and they tend to say things like "I hate it here" or "I hate going to school". And they got it from me when I would say "I hate these messes". I don't commemorate those moments either. Not many people do.
But the point is, we all have them. We all have those moments or those days/weeks/months/years that didn't seem to go our way. Or if you haven't ever had one, you might. When Hunter told me I was his best friend, I wasn't thinking about the day he was really mad at me. Or the next day he would be. At that precise moment, everything was perfect.
Today, when I was really busy and Hunter asked me to take him to the park, I remembered that right now, he thinks I am his best friend. Of course, I'm still his mom too but I took him to the park. And I chased him the way he likes to be chased and it only took forty minutes out of my day. He didn't tell me again that I was his best friend, and maybe he never will, but I will always remember the day he did. And maybe one day, when I ask him to help clean up, he'll remember that I told him he was my best friend too. Fingers crossed.
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