If Bronson is awake, he’s the five-step police. “Mama! Mama!”, he shouts if I’m about to take a sixth step in the opposite direction. He maintains his conviction that I must be near.
I find this simultaneously the most annoying thing in the world and the most sure sign of love. I know he loves me, needs me and wants me to be a part of his life. He invites me to join him. (Or demands, since he’s two.) He wants me near, just to be near. He wants me to pay attention.
Now, I firmly believe he needs to learn some self-entertainment skills. I would love for him to play with some of the oodles of toys strewn about our house all by himself. I think that’s important.
But, more importantly, I think he’s important. Him and his little bro are my highest calling at the moment. And when he wants me near, why not oblige?
Things are simple when you’re two. Either your mom is with you, or she isn’t. Either I’m paying attention, or I’m not. He doesn’t care about my agenda, my lists, my thoughts, or even my needing to prepare his food or clean his clothes. Either he’s the most important thing to me, or he’s not.
God doesn’t let me stray too far either. He calls when I’m steps away. He invites me to join in his story, his life. I tell him I can self-entertain. I’ll stay busy and out of his way. He reminds me it’s not busyness he wants. It’s me. By his side. Because either He’s the most important thing to me, or He’s not.
It’s simple. Either I’m staying near, or I’m straying far.