Tale of a broken-hearted mamma

I was under the impression that a child would only turn on you upon blowing out the candles at their thirteenth birthday party. My daughter is ten years off the mark! Why did we have to reach this milestone so early? I am truly unprepared.

As she sat chomping on her toast, slathered with jam (just the way she likes it), my sweet, innocent daughter looks up at me with doe eyes and proclaims, "Mommy, I love you...but I think I like Nonna Isa better". Oh. My. Gosh.

Nonna Isa is my mother-in-law - a wonderful woman - but at that very moment, she was my nemesis. How could a child who was almost totally and completely dependent on me love someone she saw only once a week, at most? My pondering lead to an automatic response: "Nonna Isa is the one I love better because she gives me presents." Hmph!

I wanted to stomp and throw a hissy-fit, but I felt that would only reinforce my daughter's preference for her grandmother. Instead, I proceeded to explain that love did not equate with the number of gifts one bestows upon you. Love is about how one cares for you... Love is sitting up all night when your little one is wheezing and has too many "yuckies in the nose" to breathe. Love is rubbing your child's tummy because it feels "too filled up". Love is reading "Goodnight Moon" four times, then just one more time because your baby "likes it too much". Love is about the pain you feel when your child falls and is taken to the hospital for their "really bad boo-boo". I tried to sum it up as best I could. At once, I could see her features softening with a look of mutual understanding.

That's when she demanded, "So will you buy me a Barbie bicyle so I can love you more than Nonna Isa?"

Sigh.