Lucky

I have always been nervous about telling Casey he's "my favorite." I don't want him-- or Marcie, or any future children-- to think that means he's my favorite to the exclusion of others. But I do want him to know just how special he is to me. Someone recommended to me the book You're All My Favorites, which is the story of a bear family. Each bear wonders how he or she can be the favorite if the others are also a favorite. But the point of the story is that they can all be favorites, for different reasons. So now I tell Casey he's my favorite big brother or my favorite first-born. Because he is.

My mom always tells Casey how lucky she is-- in particular that she's lucky because she gets to be his grandma. I know he understands what she means because about a year ago, maybe less, he began telling me, "I know why grandma's lucky-- 'cause she's Casey's grandma."

This morning when I squatted down to kiss Casey good bye before I left for work, he lept at me and bear-hugged me. I said, "Casey, you are my favorite big brother and my favorite first-born son. I am soooo lucky I get to be your mom." And it's true. It's exactly how I feel, and I think the words I chose are particularly apt-- I didn't have to be his mom. His birthmother chose me to raise him, so I get to be his mom.

Then he said the most perfect thing ever: "I'm lucky, too, Mommy. 'Cause I get to be your son!"