Will you carry me?

A funny thing happened today. "Carry me," Ethan said again and then again. My little man Ethan who is the least likely of my three to give me any physical affection, wanted me to hold him. It wasn't because we were going somewhere, he was tired, or his feet hurt. He just wanted me to hold him for awhile. When I picked him up his three-year old body immediately took the position that he used to prefer when he was a baby- head on my shoulder, arms tucked in between his belly and my chest. It was great and I loved it immensely, but only for a moment. Then the guilt came (is this from being a mom, or is it just being me). I began wondering if Ethan wasn't getting enough attention being so closely smacked between a very demanding older brother and his baby sister. Was he not a baby long enough? Am I expecting him to behave like his brother too often? Do I not single him out enough and give him the one-on-one that he deserves. He has always been a fairly independent little soul, something that reminds me of myself. The fact escapes me sometimes that he is still very, very young. As a mom, I try to always remember to tell each of my children how much I love them every day, something that I don't think they can hear too often. "Have I told you yet today how much I love you?" I heard this countless times as a child from my own mother. I can't even think of the question without hearing her tone of voice saying it. As I grew older, I rolled my eyes and groaned, "Mom." But inside I believed her. And I always felt loved. I hope I can do as good of a job. That really is my main purpose... to teach them that they matter, that they are worth more than anything to me and to their Father in heaven, and that they are deeply, fiercely loved.
I love you, Ethan...

and whenever you need it...yes, I will carry you.