How To Melt A Black Heart (in one easy step)

Gotta share a groovy parenting moment. Yesterday I kept The Boy home from preschool; The Missus is out of town and what remains of my job takes all my attention on Wednesdays. Wasn’t sure how/when I’d be able to pick him up from Child Care if he went in, so he stayed home instead.

He was extra good all day. Whenever I could get out from behind the computer we found quick things we could do together, but most of the day, he was consigned to play by himself.

I totally felt like I had let down the ball, parenting-wise. I comforted myself in the knowledge that had The Boy been born 100 years ago, he probably wouldn’t even know what his Daddy looked like yet, I’d be so uninvolved in the child-rearing; moreover, he’d likely already have a job at some mill or in the neighbor’s fields for pennies a day.

He’s got it good; great, you hear?!

No getting around it, I was fucking up the parenting thing. No amount of fast-talking was going to convince me otherwise.

Then late in the afternoon, right when my job responsibilities were hitting critical mass, he walks into my office and gives me a hug. Then he tells me, haltingly, struggling to find the words to communicate the fairly complicated concept that he wished he and I could be kids together at the same time, so we could be friends.

I was unprepared for this, especially considering that at home, I am The Right Hand Of God. When The Missus can’t get him to comply with some instruction, all she has to do is say, “Do you want me to have to call Daddy?” to get him back in line, and I’ve never raised a hand to the kid! He definitely sees me as the authority figure around these parts, in spite of which, he plain likes me enough to wish we could be kids and grow up together.

What could I do? I turned away from the computer monitor, looked him in the eye and told him the truth: Me, too!