I love you.

I love you.

Seems like somewhere in my past I read that studies show adults and kids alike flourish when they are told those three impactful words often. I have no idea if that’s true or not but, really it can’t do any harm, right? So, at the end of every phone call, after every goodnight hug, right before the truck door closes at school, I’m intentional about saying “I love you.” The majority of the time I get an, “I love you too, Mom.”  back. Except this past year, General has decided that he does not want say ‘I love you’ to his mom in front of school with all his buddies around. As his mother, I am less than please with this, but I’m pretty sure this is normal. However, he will mumble it under his breath, with a sly smile, if he doesn’t think anyone else can hear.

Sometimes I change it into a question: “Did you know that I love you?” or “You know I love you, right?” Many times these are met with a smile or eye roll and a  “yeah mom, you tell us all the time.” Most of the time it is a fun banter a bedtime, or as I’m walking one of the younger ones into school.

A few weeks ago,

I was driving with just my younger boys in the truck. I smiled in the rear view mirror at my 4-year-old Batman. For the record, he is five now, and he would like to make sure that everyone knows that. Always. I smiled and said, “Batman, did you know I love you?” He looked at me in the mirror and goes, “Mom, did you know I want a phone?”

“Umm yeah, I’m not getting you a phone.”