A Stolen Gem

I 'borrowed' this from a friend.

This is for moms.
And, by moms, I mean the folks who have birthed babies,
taken on the roll of raising babies,
quasi-adopted and love lots of babies,
and those that generally feel all babies belong to them:

My children ask...what do I want for Christmas?
The real answer . . . I want you.

I want you to keep coming around.
I want you to ask me questions, ask my advice,
tell me your problems, ask for my opinion, ask for my help.
I want you to come over and rant about your problems, rant about life, whatever.
Tell me about your job, your worries, your relationships, your friends.
I want you to continue sharing your life with me.
Come over and laugh with me, or laugh at me. I don't care.
Hearing you laugh is such a priceless treasure.

I spent a good part of my life raising you the best way I knew how.
Now I want to sit back and admire my work.
I want to hear your ups and downs.
I want to know your goals and ambitions.
I'd love to sit and play a game.
Raid my refrigerator. Help yourself.
I really don't mind.
In fact, I wouldn't want it any other way.

I want you to spend your money making a better life for you.
I have the things I need.
I want to see you happy and healthy.
You've already given me my gift all year and every year.
I want you.