Yesterday at the playground I could tell M was working something out. He would look at the family next to us, three kids and their dad, then smile a little. I didn’t think much of it. He was more than content on the tire swing, so we just kept swinging. After a few minutes went by, he looked at me, smiled and said, “Their daddy is pushing them. That’s funny.”
“Why is that funny?”
“Just funny. M doesn’t have a daddy. M has two mamas. A Mama and an Ima,” as he threw back his head and laughed a big open mouth laugh as he continued to spin around while he flew back and forth.
The other day, my mom told me that a friend of hers asked what we are going to tell M about not having a father. She apparently said it like “that poor thing”. We have always been honest with M about having two moms and not having a dad. Of course we will explain what a donor is one day, but M is being raised to know that there are all kinds of families. His Ima has one dad and no mom. I have a mom and a dad. He has friends with one mom, a mom and a dad, two moms, two dads. We surround ourselves with loving people from a variety of contexts. So, to my mother’s friend, we tell him he has two moms who love him more than anything. Seems to me, he’s gotten the message.