Not A Scoreboard
“Look, he went straight to grandma.”
“Guess he doesn’t like mommy as much.”
Everyone smiled.
Except the mother.
Because what sounded like a sweet comment,
Was quietly telling her she wasn’t enough.
Does a baby understand favorites?
A baby just goes where it feels warm,
Where someone is singing,
Where arms are open in that moment.
But we turn it into a competition…
“See, he doesn’t ask for mom.”
“He’s happier here than at home.”
“He’s too busy to even notice.”
“With us, he never cries.”
You’re not celebrating how loved the child is.
You’re measuring the mother.
And making her feel like she has to fight
for the heart that already belongs to her.
A child’s love isn’t divided.
It grows.
27 July 2026
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.