I jokingly call Lincoln my purse. I take him everywhere. I don't even think not to. It's just something that's very important to me, and if he can't go somewhere, I'm less likely to go. That's just the way it is. At first, I thought it was out of guilt because I'm a working mom, but I genuinely just want to hang with him.
The other day Linc and I went to the grocery store. He sat in the front section for the first time--properly padded up with one of those fancy shopping cart cover deals--and we spend hours slowly walking around the store. No rush, no fuss, no watch checking. We were just hanging out shopping. I didn't care what time we got back home or if I organized my list in an efficient way to get us in and out. I realized that we were having a good time just being together. We were talking about all the things at the store and what daddy would like. Linc held a package of peppers and we studied their vibrant red, yellow and orange colors. We (I) got a free sample of coffee, and Linc seemed concerned when I told him it was too hot to drink right then. He looked at all the people and other kids there and shot me looks of "I wanna play with that kid" and "whooo that lady is talking WAY too loud." We talked the whole way around that store. He was interested in my day and answered all my questions about his with wide eyes or a big smile. I knew he had a good one.
The days I thought would be spent care taking actually contain very little of that. I mean, of course, I take care of him--change his diapers, feed him, make sure he doesn't roll off the couch or get eaten by the dog--but I don't see him only as a helpless little baby to take care of, he's my buddy, my friend. We have two-way conversations, explore and learn things together, and I need him just as much as he needs me. Finally, someone who understand me!