It was Mothers Day. That Sunday we (my then second wife Tracey and I) were with my youngest sons for their access visit and sleepover. 

That Sunday morning, I quizzed my sons. 

Did you give your mother a card for Mothers Day?

Yes, they chorused.

Did you want to phone her?

Yes!

A quick hello to their Mum on the phone and that’s that. Mothers Day is over. Better remember to call my Mum that evening though.

So far so good.

But then something odd happened.

Eliot, my second eldest son walked up to Tracey. And he had something for her. And he slipped her what looked like a folded piece of paper.

I was intrigued. This was unusual. His brothers often drew pictures and gave them to us. But rarely Eliot, if at all.

Tracey opened up the hand made card. She was speechless and more than a little moved. My son had given her a Mothers Day card! And his brothers gave her the cards they had made as well.

And this was her answer. She had asked me previously what to do and how to act to my children. I advised her just to be yourself. I had no idea if that was any help at all. I literally said the first thing that came into my head. After all, I didn’t know what to do or act either.

She got her answer that Mothers Day.

Later I took Eliot aside into the study. For a second, he probably thought he was going to get into trouble. Only for a moment. I asked him whose idea was it to give Mothers Day cards to my second wife. He admitted it was him.

I told him that I had never been more proud of him. Ever.

He knew that Mothers Day is for everyone. And that anyone can be a mother.

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