Last night Alden said, “I’m going to take Daddy’s ring.” He explained that would make him married to me. He’s a sort of Gollum/Oedipus combo these days.
Poor Alden can’t understand how his only girl, his mom, can have three dudes in her immediate orbit. It’s so unfair. Poor Damon can’t understand why his eldest son can be such a turkey sometimes.
While we’ve always tilted a little bit in the “Mommy do it!” direction, things got pretty pronounced there for a while. Even on the hallowed ground of Disney World, there was no peace to be made. I called my mom to break the news that only one of them was coming back and she just said, “Oh, he’s Oedipal right on schedule.” Which was some much needed perspective, and also kind of rhymes.
Understanding the why always helps with the what, and tensions decreased almost immediately. Damon and Alden are buddies again, dedicating afternoons to the monster truck dinosaur ball game. The whole bad business actually left a charming afterglow. Now Alden likes to end his days by telling me the various ways he loves me — “a million”, “to the moon” — and that I am “the sweetest girl” and “so kind.” He puts his hand on my cheek and tells me we will stay together forever. And I say, “Yes. We will.” Every once in a while he will wake me up in the middle of the night to say, “Mommy, can you turn so I can see you? I love to look at your face.” Gah! I cannot resist! When he asks if we can get married, I tell him we can. By the time he is old enough to call my bluff I suspect these days of uncritical adoration will be long over. From his side, anyway.
