He Tells Me He Loves Me

He tells me he loves me. Dozens of times a day.

As he walks downstairs in the morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes: “I love you, mommy.”
As I blow on his mac & cheese, criss-crossing it with ketchup just as he likes: “I love you.”
As we put together his Lego, high-fiving after finally completing the step we were stuck on: “I love you, mom!”
As I cuddle him before bed, singing his favorite song and saying nighttime prayers: “I love you, mommy.”

I think “I love you” is his way of saying, “I feel safe. I feel happy. I feel loved.”

“I love you, mommy,” he said today as we walked to the park, and then followed it, “What made you want to be a foster parent?”

“Well, I love Jesus, and Jesus loves kids, so I love kids. And I know that every kid needs a mommy, all the time—even when their mommy can’t take care of them. So I wanted to be a mommy to kids when they need one.”

“……well, you’re really good at it.”

I love you, my boy.