I remember my daughter always saying she's a mommy's girl.

She would jump around in front of me, letting me hold her.

And she would repeatedly ask me, "Mommy, will you love me more than Daddy?"

She knew I loved her the most.

But she still wanted me to say it out loud.

"Yes, my darling, you are mommy's most beloved treasure, even Daddy can't compare."

Every time I said that, my daughter would happily throw herself into my arms.

And my husband, sitting on the couch watching a soccer match, would pout.

At that time, our daughter was in the second year of junior high school, still a bit temperamental.

But it never affected our relationship.

I always wanted to tell her.

Not only are you a mommy's girl.

I'm also a daughter's mother, Yurou.

But I never said it, maybe because as you grow older, it's easier to feel shy.

Now, thinking back, it would have been better to say it.

It's just a few words after all.

At least it would let Yurou know that our love is the same.

I still remember when she was in her first year of high school, Yurou wanted to go to summer camp.

It was her first time leaving home and going far away.

To be honest, I couldn't let go.

She grew wings and wanted to try to fly.

But I stayed in place, building a cage for her.

My husband said, "Children will always grow up."

He asked me to start slowly adapting to her leaving.

So that I wouldn't be overwhelmed when she eventually leaves completely.

I choked and told him.

"Can't our daughter just be mine?"

My husband tenderly rubbed my shoulder.

I know, I'm a bit stubborn.

After calming down, I packed Yurou's luggage.

Every plush toy of hers was chosen together by us.

Behind each toy, I sewed their names by hand.

Big Mouth Cat, Little A, Crocodile Brother, Koko.

Yurou likes to sleep with Crocodile Brother.

I washed and sun-dried Crocodile Brother three days in advance.

When she got on the car, I heard some classmates mocking her.

"Jiang Yurou, you're already in high school and still bringing a doll to sleep with, aren't you embarrassed?"

Yurou wasn't angry. She proudly held up Crocodile Brother.

"This isn't a doll, it's my mom's love. What do you know?"

After Yurou left, I learned about "separation anxiety."

I felt anxious, couldn't sleep, and had a hard time eating.

Every night, I would sit alone in the living room, listening to the voice messages of our conversations.

Until I found out from her teacher that the weather there was bad recently, and the two-week summer camp ended in just three days.

At that time, I felt like I came back to life.

I stood at the door waiting.

When my daughter got off the car, she cried.

Holding me in her arms, with Crocodile Brother's head sticking out of her backpack.

"Mommy, I don't want to go to summer camp anymore."

I nervously asked her, "What's wrong? Are you unhappy?"

Yurou shook her head.

"Yeah, I'm not happy without Mommy around."

I felt overjoyed and took her to the mall.

At that time, I thought we would really be together forever.