The “S” Word

Before I put Henry down for a nap today, he wanted to read the book Love You Forever.

Have you read this book? By Robert Munsch, it is one of the most emotionally manipulative pieces of literature in all time. It is the Sophie’s Choice of children’s books.

Here is the basic concept:

A mom has a new baby, and she rocks is very slowly, and this is the refrain:

The kid grows up, and becomes a smelly, loud, typical p-i-t-a, and but the mom keeps sneaking in to hold and rock her little boy and sings him the refrain.

I am tearing up while writing this. What is my problem?

And then, the little boy is a grown man, and she sneaks into his room at night to rock him.

And then she gets old and frail, and he rocks her, and tells her that she’ll always be his mommy, and, good lord, it’s even more worse, cryingwise, than the opening sequence of the damn Lion King. Every time Henry picks Love You Forever to read, he ends up smearing tears all over my face like finger paint all over a page.

This highly-charged emotional state is enhanced by the fact that he’s starting “school” next week. It’s an itty bitty fake non-academic cooperative playschool, run by parents and a teacher. For 9 hours a week, his main activities will be eating homemade playdough and gluing googly eyes to pom poms, or more likely, to his own hands. Still, the fact that we’re throwing around the “s” word makes me feel like something weighty is sitting on my chest. It makes me feel like he is going to college. It makes me feel like I’m co-signing a lease for him to get his own apartment.

It’s all a bit too much. I need to rehydrate, and fast.