This morning, my daughters walk to school holding the hands of another mother. They want to talk to her about everything ranging from new earrings to loose teeth.
I’m walking alone behind them, watching how their little faces look up into this other mother’s face. I shove my hands in my pocket. I’m tempted to run up and interfere, take my daughters back into my own hands, and direct their sharing back to me.
But I don’t. There’s something beautiful and right about my children connecting deeply with other women. The more mothers around, the better. The more folks who love them, listen to their stories, care about their earrings, and witness their growing, the better.
I love being in a community of women who know we’re all in this together. The more mothers, the better. May there be countless children who say, “She was like a mother to me.”
Do I care for other children like a parent? Do I let other mothers into the lives of my children?