Mommy’s Boy

You spend enough of your life being a grown-up.

Making decisions. Being responsible. Keeping everything under control. Perhaps you’re the man everyone else relies on — competent, successful and very used to getting things done.

But when you come to me, you can leave all of that at the door.

Because I know there’s another side to you.

The side that wants my attention. The side that wants to be looked after, praised and fussed over. The side that occasionally needs a firm word when you’re getting a little too demanding for your own good.

Yes, darling. That side.

You might not call yourself a Mommy’s boy when you first meet me. In fact, I suspect some of you would be rather horrified by the suggestion.

But I notice things.

I notice how much you enjoy my approval.

I notice the little smile when I tell you you’ve been good.

I notice how quickly that capable, important man begins to relax when he realises he doesn’t have to make any decisions for a while.

And I particularly notice when you start trying to get my attention.

You see, being Mommy doesn’t mean I’m going to indulge your every whim. Quite the opposite.

I decide when you deserve praise. I decide when you need reassurance. I decide when you’re allowed to be demanding and when you need reminding of your manners.

And underneath all of that authority is something softer.

You’re safe to stop performing for a while.

You don’t need to impress me. You don’t need to have all the answers. You can tell me what you want, what you’ve been thinking about and perhaps even admit to some of those needs you usually keep very carefully hidden.

I’ll listen.

I’ll take care of you.

But don’t mistake my softness for you being in charge.

Mommy knows best, after all.

So, tell me, darling…

Are you a Mommy’s boy?

You can admit it to me.

I probably already know.