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I was walking the dog with Ernie and holding his hand. It's such a simple and joyful pleasure and having this connection with my boy fills me with warmth.
"Will you always hold my hand, however old you get?" I asked him.
He said he would.
Then thought about it for a second.
"Maybe not when I am a teenager," he clarified.
"Why not then?" I asked.
"Because the other teenagers would laugh at me."
"Why?"
"They might think I was a daddy's boy. But when I am 20 I will start holding your hand again."
"Won't kids think you're a daddy's boy now?"
"No, because they are all daddy's boys too. You can hold your dad's hand when you are seven."
"I'll miss it when you don't hold my hand," I told him.
"It will only be for a few years."
It was funny that he had it all planned out and knew what was coming, but also that he thought that once the teenage years have passed he'll be back to holding my hand once he's no longer got the suffix teen on his age. Such awareness and lack of awareness all together.
I'd like to hold his hand when he's twenty, but I am doubtful it will happen. And I am a hypocrite because I stopped holding my dad's hand some time in the seventies and I definitely do not want to ever hold my dad's hand again. The thought disgusts me. Showing him any kind of affection or love would be entirely wrong. Obviously.
Maybe on his death bed. Unless some other men are there watching, because I don't want them thinking I am a daddy's boy.
But I think my son should love me forever and not feel weird or ashamed to demonstrate that love via hand holds and hugs. However much he is bullied by other kids.
For now we both love holding hands. Appreciate it while it lasts. You won't know when the last time will come. Though don't worry fellas, you still possibly have your death bed to look forward to for more.
