Why Mom Mistakes Can Be Good

I didn’t tuck my tween-age son into bed.

Instead, I slipped into my own bed and fell under the trance of Downton Abbey. (Which dashing suitor is Mary going to wed? I can’t believe that happened to Edith! HOW DID I JUST NOW DISCOVER THIS SHOW?) Forty-five minutes into my television coma, my son came upstairs. His tall, lanky figure loomed in the doorway…

“Mom, you forgot to tuck me in.”

Forty-five minutes.

He waited that long for me. ("Mother of the Year." Nailed it.)

So we went downstairs. I pulled the soft blankets over him, briefly chatted, whispered a prayer, planted a kiss on his cheek, and told him how much I love him.

Then I climbed back upstairs with a huge smile on my face.

Just when I thought he was getting too old and a little weary of mom’s ridiculous showering of affection in tucking him into bed, he reminded me even older boys still need their mamas. I love that I forgot to tuck him in, because I got to experience this moment.

Mamas, why do we stress so much about making mistakes?

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