I have a song I like to sing to Sam. I made it up when he was a couple weeks old and I’ve been singing it ever since.

I love Sammy
Yes, I do.
I love Sammy 
How about you?

I realize I’m not going to win a Tony or a Grammy for music composition anytime soon, but it’s a cute little song that makes Sam smile and, quite often, sing along. (And it makes Lucy smile when I sing the Lucy version… Which is exactly the same except with her name instead of Sam’s.)

not-that-strong-sammyThe other day, Sam and I were walking down the street holding hands, when I starting singing the song.

I love Sammy
Yes, I do.
I love…

Sam grabbed my arm with his other hand and pulled me down towards him. He looked at me and said “No Mom! Don’t sing!”

I was certain that I had misheard him. After all, why would he want me to stop singing? It’s a cute little diddy that I composed just for him. Maybe he didn’t hear me.  Maybe I just needed to sing louder.

So I did.

I love Sammyyyyyyyy
Yes, I doooooooo!

“Mom, noooooo! Please don’t sing!” Sam was hanging off my arm, his eyes pleading, saying ‘Please don’t embarrass me, Mom.’


I didn’t think we’d get here this soon.  I didn’t think we’d be at the ‘please don’t embarrass me, Mom’ stage already. My little man is only six years old. I thought we’d hit this stage in six or seven years.

But we’re there already.

So, I respected my son’s request and I stopped singing. I picked the pieces of my shattered, broken heart up off the ground, and I continued walking down the street with my little man.

It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. I can be strong. I know that he wanting me to stop professing my undying, ever-growing love through original song doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love me. Of course it doesn’t mean that.

So I stopped singing.

But I didn’t let go of his hand.

I’m not that strong.