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"Mom, I want to do this alone." you said, skipping your way through the stone path and shooing me off.

It might've been the strenuous day at the beach or the full stomach after that big dinner at Sutukil. But Oh boy, did it hit me hard on the guts.

Sigh. 

37

Kid,

I wish I did this earlier, transcribe things that you say. Profound things that leaves a mother teary-eyed and warm on the inside. Profound things that make you sound like the most mature adult, more adult than me even.

Today, you said this when you played Mommy and I, your Kid (For some reason you seem to like that game. It makes me question my quotient of responsibility):

You: Baby, I'm going to the office na.
Me: Okay, Mom. See you!
You: Mom, I'm back from the office na. Did you cry?
Me: Yup, I did. I missed you.
You: Aw, Don't cry anymore, Mom.
         I came back.
         I always come back.

It breaks and rebuilds my heart at the same time. Because, you see, this is what I say to you everytime I leave. The assurance that you seem to believe it, and even mimic it is making me giddy.

Thank you, Kid.

10 October 2012
You at 3