April 1, 2013 by Dadinator
Today we played. I watched you climb to the top of the platform and slide down the slide. I was ready to help you, but you didn’t need me. I was so proud of you, son. You were tenacious, fearless and you took such joy in your accomplishments.
I wish I could tell me 12 months ago about today. I remember being fascinated then by the way you lifted your head up as you lay on your tummy. Your legs did little frog-kicks and you stared at the world around you. I was so proud of you then too. You were tenacious, fearless and you took such joy in your accomplishments.
I sometimes have trouble distinguishing that the little squirming awkward baby you were when you were born from the romping toddler you are today. Once upon a time you couldn’t move across a room without my help. Your mum and I could set you down safe in the knowledge that you’ll stay put because you weren’t capable of what you can do now. But those days are gone. They will not return.
Through the years and through the changes and shifts in our lives I know I will have trouble distinguishing between the young man that will stand before me and the toddler today that demands “up” all the time, that needs me to rock him to sleep, that cries when I leave the room and that clings to me so tightly when something hurts him. I apologise in advance for those occasions. I hope you will be able to forgive me and understand how it will be hard at times to regard you as an equal when I currently change your nappies. I’ll work it out one day.
I forgave my own parents for the same thing a long time ago. I think I began to understand them after you arrived. Thank you for giving me that chance.
Maybe one day you’ll understand what it has been like for me. I dearly hope so.
I love you.