“We should love everyone, mommy?”

“Yes, honey. Greet everyone with love.”

“OK mommy.”

This was a recent conversation between my son and me about what I think it means to be a nice person. I’m trying to teach him that everyone is important, everyone is valuable, everyone is special, everyone deserves respect. My definition of a nice person is someone who treats people this way most of the time.

I wasn’t taught this from the get go. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, it just hasn’t served me well these last 30-plus years. Overall, I’d say I’ve always been a pretty nice person, but my heart was not always in a good place. I was competitive, judgmental at times, a grudge holder, etc. The stress that caused me was not good and until recently, I never placed it on myself. Someone always did something to make me that way. Meanwhile, my reaction was all mine and I chose to not always react the best way. About a year ago I decided to think and live my life a different way and see how it went. So far, so good (better than good, actually). I'm less stressed, less angry, and less hurt. I'm not 100 percent with this, but I'm doing well enough to quickly realize the times I'm not loving. They're getting few and far better, and life is oh so good.

Anyway, I’m trying to teach Lincoln to love because if you approach someone or a situation with love, you just feel better in my experience. Loving people just spins off into all kinds of other good things -- an open mind, acceptance, and general good vibes to name a few. I want my boy to have this ability. It's very important.

It’s hard to do this with someone you just met or, in my case, someone you previously loathed, but it is such a helpful and nice thing to do. You don’t have to go around kissing everyone or be their doormat.

Just love. (Gee, how nice would this world be if more people just loved more people?)

Erin Hill is a first-time mom to Lincoln, who was born in January 2010. She's learning as she goes and is experiencing everything a new mom goes through while seeing the humor, irony, and enjoyment in her adventures.

Erin is a full-time technical writer, a freelancer for Patch, and co-creator and blogger at SlimSavers.com. She lives in Plum with Lincoln, her husband, Adam, their dog, Roxie, and five (yes, five) cats, Nirvana, Gary Roberts, Elvis, Talbot and Forrest. (Anyone want a cat?)

So now there’s a little boy in a bunker somewhere in Alabama?

I’m having a REALLY hard time believing my son in safe anywhere these days.

Random elementary school shootings, school bus intruders and kidnappers…everything I can think of and more. I’m driving myself crazy!

Previously, I’d hung on to a little hope that Lincoln was safe at preschool and with me at home. Now, I don’t really believe this much at all. In my opinion, nowhere is safe now. That makes me so sad.

Am I nuts? (Don’t answer that.)

No longer do I feel like the “that won’t happen to him” talk I give myself when I read of a horrible incident is enough to calm my nerves. I just don’t know how to settle my fears so that I don’t become the woman who locks her family up in their house. (Well, I won’t do that since I don’t feel safe in my house any way! ARG!)

How do you cope and deal with the possibility that something horrific could happen? Do you think about it? A lot?

I’m not obsessing. I can’t possibly. I’d be in tears the entire day and up all night. I think our minds know what could happen, but they just numb it down for us so we don't freak out! But, sometimes my mind wanders to crazy places. Scary places. I hate my mind. I hate this world sometimes. (I hate that I just said that.)

Erin Hill is a first-time mom to Lincoln, who was born in January 2010. She's learning as she goes and is experiencing everything a new mom goes through while seeing the humor, irony, and enjoyment in her adventures.

Erin is a full-time technical writer, a freelancer for Patch, and co-creator and blogger at SlimSavers.com. She lives in Plum with Lincoln, her husband, Adam, their dog, Roxie, and five (yes, five) cats, Nirvana, Gary Roberts, Elvis, Talbot and Forrest. (Anyone want a cat?)

I went to a party recently where there were some kids (imagine that). The youngest was four and she was running around the party and having the time of her life. Her parents, who were related to the host and several other people at the party, were mingling with the adults – there were only two other kids there, and they were her brothers.

I turned to my husband and said, “I guess at four they can run around more by themselves at a party?”

I said this to him not out of judgment or surprise or anything like that. I was addressing a question we often have in these situations:

What’s the age that the kids can mingle independently with a crowd at a party?

Every time we’re at a party – a kids’ party, a get together, whatever – either my husband or I (or both) are not far from Lincoln, who just turned three. We’re not hovering (I don’t think), but we’re there in the same room or we have a visual from an adjoining room. Other kids are usually running around far from their parents off on their own agenda. These kids are mostly older than Linc or have a sibling that’s older they’re paling around with.

In a public space, it’s different. I’ll stick by him for as long as I want in public. But, in someone’s private house where we know everyone, when can he have some more space? I'm just used to hanging around (and I don't mind it at all).

“I nee’ help” Lincoln says.

“Give it a shot,” I encourage.

“I don’t want to. I nee’ help.”

Linc is frequently asking for help with things he has done on a regular basis himself before. Going potty, getting undressed, and washing his hands are all things I’ve seen him do (and I think he does for himself at school). But, when my husband and I are around, he usually asks for help.

We used to help, but soon figured out he asks for help because we help. Now, we encourage him to try or go in steps, like first, get to the since, second, turn the water on, etc.

He’ll be three on Monday, and I’m guessing this is a phase like most unexplainable things have been. Have you experienced this? This “regression” of independence?

Erin Hill is a first-time mom to Lincoln, who was born in January 2010. She's learning as she goes and is experiencing everything a new mom goes through while seeing the humor, irony, and enjoyment in her adventures.

Erin is a full-time technical writer, a freelancer for Patch, and co-creator and blogger at SlimSavers.com. She lives in Plum with Lincoln, her husband, Adam, their dog, Roxie, and five (yes, five) cats, Nirvana, Gary Roberts, Elvis, Talbot and Forrest. (Anyone want a cat?)