Bins of Love

At bedtime I read to my son. He picks three books and we curl up together in his bed and we read and laugh. It’s one of my favorite rituals and it makes going to bed a pleasant experience. By the time we’re done with reading he’s usually calmed down, relaxed and ready to sleep. He’s also happy, he loves to be read to, he loves books.

When he feels happy like this he usually proclaims, “Mommy, this is really fun being together.” What a statement, from the heart, full of joy and his own sense of wellbeing, it fills me every time he says it.

But then one night about a month ago he said, “Mommy, I love you more than Daddy.” Ouch, that was a stab to my heart. There is a small side of me, to all of us, that loves it, we want to be the favorite parent. And in a house with both parents, this is normal and not an issue. Unfortunately, if you find yourself parenting in a two home family, this can be a sign post for problems up ahead. In the big picture, I don’t want him feeling like he needs to love one of us more, that he needs to appease us or make us feel… well anything in particular. That’s way too much responsibility for a young child.

In my dismay, in an effort to take a moment to asses things, I looked across the room and saw his chest of bins. This cute little dresser type stand that holds six different colored bins, in our case for toys, sits across the room holding all of his favorite treasures. So it struck me as a wonderful metaphor.

Rather than go with the statement of his comparative love as a compliment, which I didn’t feel, in my heart, that it was, I decided to discuss the bins. I told him that when we love someone it does not affect the way we love anyone else, that we can love as many people as we choose with as much of our heart as we wish without taking away from the way we feel about anyone else. Like his toy bins. Each bin has the capacity to be full or empty on its own, without regard to the quantity of toys in the other bins. One could be empty while the other is overflowing. That’s love, that’s the power of love, it’s infinite, or as infinite was we choose to allow it to be. I probably said it in more six year old terms, but the metaphor was well received.

I looked over to him, resting in his bed, looking up at me with the biggest blue eyes nestled within his creamy soft skin, cuddled into his blankets, sucking his fingers with his old warn blankie and he smiled. I kissed him goodnight and he said, “Mommy, this is really fun being together.”