My middle son rang and shouted with much excitement: “We have big news in the house – big news, Mum!”.
I wondered what the big news on a boring Wednesday night could possibly be when I foolishly thought I had everything in hand with our little mid-week routine.
We run our weeks like boot camps, and it is a matter of buckling down and surviving to Friday most weeks.
Well, I walked in the front door to be greeted by my other son, who is in Year 3, as he shoved a folded-up piece of paper into my hand. I unfolded it to read with horror and shock it was from … a girl. It said: “I love you. Do you love me? Would you be my boyfriend? Please tick yes or no below”. My stomach lurched and my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
I wanted to demand to know who this little gold digger (there is not that much gold yet, but there will be) was, sniffing around my beautiful baby boy. Instead, I managed to calmly say: “Oh, this seems young to be sending you letters like this. Should we just throw it in the bin and never talk of it again?” But my entire family had other plans.
My daughter thought it was THE most exciting thing that had happened all year, and then went on to tell me she never once received a love letter in Primary school, and this was further proof the youngest child gets everything in life.
My middle child wanted to know if it meant the letter-writing girl and his brother would get married. My husband was just enjoying me squirm and be very jealous at the mere thought of the little apple-of-my-eye flirting with another woman. This is the crux of it, isn’t it?
We fear our sons will grow up and leave us. Well, I do. Admittedly, I am a bit crazy – even on a good day. So, maybe I am wrong, but I tell myself I am going to try to be the best mother-in-law in the world and bribe my future in-laws with free food and unlimited alcohol.
I feel my youngest son is destined to fly away and be a gypsy citizen of the world. It is going to be hard to let him fly high when I love him so much. But that is what we do as mums.
In the meantime, the silly note is stuck to the fridge, mocking me every day. I wish there was a third box to tick as an option that said: “Please go away”.
But do not tell my son that.