This morning my 2-year-old daughter told me I’m her best friend. I know she has no clue what “best friend” means, and I probably wouldn’t make the cut if she did. But it still warmed my heart to hear her say it. But it also made me a little sad because I know that as her mother, my role is not to be her best friend. It’s a position in her life I can never hold. I certainly hope we’ll be very close mother and daugther, and very good friends, but I can’t be her best friend.
Best friends don’t impose curfews or have to say “no” or punish her when she has done something wrong. I won’t be the one by her side when she cuts class or (god forbid!) sips her first beer at a party. As her mom, I probably won’t let her go to parties so she’ll have to sneak out to sip that first beer.
I hope she’ll cry on my shoulder when her heart is broken, and that she’ll tell me all about the cute guy in her gym class that she thinks will ask her to prom. I hope she’ll come to me when she has a problem or when she needs help, no matter what it is. I hope she wants to spend time with me as much as I want to spend with her. I hope we’re as close as mother and daughter can get. But I can’t be her best friend.
So for now I’ll revel in that title that she unwittingly bestowed upon me until she knows what it means and takes it back.
Motherhood and Other Nonsense 