A sign of times to come

Saturday morning, at the aquarium.

Zakary: Do you want to hold hands with Maman or Papa?
DS: Papa!

A very simple exchange. But the answer to that question used to be Maman. It used to always be Maman. After being my son’s main caregiver for a year, I suddenly went back to work, and even though he loved his daddy, of course, he was suffering from some very normal separation anxiety. When I was home, I was again the center of his universe and he would not let me get out of his sight. Going to the washroom was sometimes a problem.

Not anymore. He is getting used to Papa being there for him a lot more often than I am, and now he asks for his daddy a lot more than he used to. A friend of mine to whom I was telling this story Saturday night was saying I must be happy that my son and his dad bonded in that way. Of course I am. Of course I’m glad that my son is being cared for, during the day, by the person best qualified to take care of him. Of course I’m glad that my son trusts his dad and feels loved and cherished by him. And there is no reason why he wouldn’t get more attached to his dad than to his mom, even though it’s the opposite for most children for reasons of traditional separation of household chores.

But do I have to mention it makes me feel horribly jealous?

I would never mention it of course. It would be petty. Zakary deserves the deep bond he has forged with our son. I know very well how hard taking care of him can be on a daily basis.

But I can’t help it. Deep inside of my lurks a very ugly beast that wishes my son still asked for me when he bumps his head against the wall instead of being just as easily comforted by his dad.

Let’s hope he’ll want to keep nursing for a while. Breastfeeding is the only thing no one else can do for my baby!

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