A boy & his Momma

Once again, the mom I've been following wrote a blog that inspired me. It made think. Which is good, most of the time. Anyway, She wrote about her son and how she loved talking about him. It got me thinking about my own children. I love them to a million little pieces. I love them equally. My love for each of them is different. I don't know why, or how. Maybe I can explain it. I'll try.

I love my daughter. She makes me laugh. She's just this incredibly funny little being. I think she knows her purpose is to make people laugh. She brings so much life to our home. She's such a busy little thing. Always climbing, always curious. It never ceases to amaze me how much energy she contains. I want a small vile of her energy. Some day, she will be one of my best friends. I'll teach her every thing I know, and she'll teach me. She already has. But, little girls have a special bond with their daddies that is so much deeper than the love she'll have for me. I'm okay with that, a daddy should have her heart more than a mommy. He's the first man in her life. The one that can protect her from anything. She'll run to him first. It warms my heart to know she loves her daddy as much as I love mine. I hope she values that. She'll love me equally, yet differently. I can teach her things no one else can. But, her heart belongs to her daddy more. I understand, I have a daddy.

My son. The one that came charging into my life with such force. He is my first born. The one that gave me purpose. His Oma & Poppa's first grandson. The heir to the Davis line. He will carry on our name. He still climbs into my lap for comfort. He cries for me when he's hurt or scared. I treasure that. It won't belong before he's too big and I'm too little. He laughs this hearty, belly laugh. I wish you could hear it. I am the first woman he will ever love. I loved him first. For a while, it was him and I against the world. We survived together. I could go on for hours about him.

I don't love one any more than I love the other, I love them differently. With a fierceness only a mother can. God help the first person that breaks their heart or little body.