Well, just in case I didn’t love grocery shopping with every ounce of my heart, I’m now back to pushing two loafers around in the cart.

The Target experience is a little too much of a jaunt for Tucker and his recovering foot, so I load the two of them into a cart made for preschoolers with a transportation plan we haven’t used in at least that long.

It’s just like the olden days. Except now they weigh a collective 150 pounds. It’s kind of a hot mess of maneuvering, like I’m driving the world’s largest and unwieldiest stroller.

The novelty is profound, and they’re totally digging this routine. They like to turn and face me for reasons unknown to me, and so I make up the reasons.

Tyler says, “I’m going to face Mommy the whole time,” and I finish his sentence with “… because she is so beautiful.”

I was really just playing around, honestly. Just teasing them, putting my words in their mouths while I supervised the yogurt selections.

But then sweet Tucker, ever the one to take every word to heart, whispered to me in his soft tone, “Mom, you don’t hear that very often anymore, do you?”

I smiled at his endless compassion. “No, lovey. Not very often.”

* * *

It’s hard to teach the language of love without my husband here to model it with me, for me, to me.  Somehow, my son is learning what a woman needs to hear, even though his dad isn’t here to show him.


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