Confessing to the Kid

The first time I met Zach, he felt it appropriate to inform me that I should be no means assume that I was special, not for one moment.

“My dad has lots of girlfriends,” he stated matter-of-factly. This was just about the first thing he said to me, as if to make sure I knew my place in the grand scheme of things.

“Oh really,“ I gulped, feeling a little humiliated by the fact that even this six year old knew I would never be enough for M. I tossed the inflated beach ball with a map of the world on it across the room into his golden brown arms.

“Yeah.” He threw it back.

Since then Zach and I have bonded in a way I never would have imagined. The extent of my love for this boy scares me. And my heart melts like butter in the sun every time he climbs onto my lap, or cuddles me before bedtime.

I don’t love Zach just because he is M’s son. I love Zach because he is Zach, yet my relationship with him is inextricably tied to my relationship with M.

So I was very touched on Friday night when M, reclining in his tattered lazyboy chair asked Zack, "Zach, how many girlfriends do I have?"

Zach blushed and looked down at his bare feet.

"Ummm....I don't know."

"One girlfriend Zach. I only have one girlfriend. Do you know what her name is?"

Zach blushed some more, obviously not wanting to talk about this. He looked at me nervously, afraid of giving the wrong answer.

"Flutterby is my girlfriend."

I have never been so happy.