I don’t want to name which son I’m writing about in this column because he would probably kill me.

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I don’t want to name which son I’m writing about in this column because he would probably kill me. Or, at least cop a mega teen-aged attitude and make my life hell for a while because I shared this story. So, he who touched my heart, as he so often does, will be left unnamed.

We were exchanging Christmas gifts when, with a huge grin, “he” handed me a box. I carefully opened his hand-wrapped gift, taking as much delight in the carefully wrapped gift as what might be inside, to find a box of handmade certificates. As I shuffled through the cards, I found certificates for hugs, chores “without attitude,” and “Momplements” (a “Momplement,” as he described to me, is a compliment for me just from him).

The obvious specialness of this gift was the thought and time “he” put into it, and, of course, its homemade nature. What really touched me though was what was on the certificates. As “he” hits the teenage years full force, the attitude has picked up and the affection towards me has slowed down. This is normal of most teens, but “he” has always been my buddy, the one who would hang with me no matter what we were doing.

We’ve had conversations about this change and I get that it’s what “he” needs to do to grow up… ultimately coming back to me. What touched me, though, was that “he” heard how I missed that part of our relationship… and made certificates for things I really wanted from him… things I missed and needed: affection and closeness.

I’ve used a couple of the certificates, but most of them sit in my desk drawer. I look through them almost daily, savoring the heart put into making them for me and admiring the beautiful soul that “he” is. I’m sure when we get into the throes of a teenage moment, I’ll need to whip out a certificate. But I have gotten permission from him to keep all the used cards, as long as I write “VOID” on them once used.

Until next time, Cheri

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