Thomas Fiffer’s weekend with his sons may seem indulgent, but when his son opens up to him at the end of the night, he knows he’s made the right choice.
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This past weekend was a kid weekend, which means I had my two boys with me starting at 6:00 on Friday night.
As a single parent and a man who’s learned a lot about boundaries and limits the hard way, I know how to say no to unreasonable demands from children – and childish adults – and I don’t consider myself indulgent or permissive. But I do enjoy giving.
Saturday morning they wanted pancakes.
With maple syrup and caramel sauce.
My younger son, J, offered to help make the batter.
He is an expert batter maker who knows how to stir down low and slow and loves to sniff the vanilla.
I thought the caramel sauce was a little over the top, but my answer was . . . yes.
They also wanted cappuccino, which they had tried at French Roast in New York City on our previous weekend, instead of their regular morning sips of 10% coffee, 90% au lait.
They call cappuccino “foamy,” and they wanted caramel in it, too.
My answer was . . . yes.
They also wanted to make chocolate chip cookies to put in their lunches this week. We haven’t made them in a long while, and they miss them.
My answer was . . . yes.
Saturday afternoon they wanted to take our usual walk into town, get their sodas at Oscar’s and a cupcake at Crumbs, rent movies from the library, and play like wild men on the sculpture in the park.
My answer was . . . yes.
At dinner on Saturday night, my younger son J asked for more broccoli.
Yes, more broccoli! (I’ll share with you sometime how I make it.)
Naturally, my answer was . . . yes.
On Sunday, they wanted me to come outside and play a long game of assassin tag with them.
My older son, S, explained there was only one rule: no cheating.
My answer was . . . yes.
Digging in the yard after tag was over, S found a giant rock.
“Maybe it’s a dragon egg?”
“Maybe.”
“If it hatches can we keep him?”
That one was easy . . . yes.
Sunday night they wanted spaghetti and meatballs with homemade sauce, a messy production that uses every pot and pan the way I make it.
My answer was yes.
And then, they wanted to stay an extra night, instead of going back to their mother at 7:00 as they usually do.
My answer, even though I was exhausted, ready to see them off, and looking forward to enjoying a nice big cocktail, was yes.
I thought for a second (not much longer than that) about whether I should have the big cocktail anyway.
By all means, yes!
And then, after I’d finally gotten J to sleep, S and I had some precious snuggle time, the only time – late at night – he sometimes opens up to me about what’s on his mind.
And this time he spilled.
He told me how he feels about school. About his little brother. About the divorce. About life. About things he understands better than I thought he did, better even than I do. About knowing who he is and who he is going to become.
And he fell asleep happy, happier than I’ve seen him in a while.
And I fell asleep proud and happy, too.
You might say that like the caramel sauce on the pancakes, the whole weekend, capped off by the extra night, was over the top. And I did say no to jumping on the furniture, seconds on ice cream, using the pogo stick inside the house. But sometimes, you just have to go over the top. Because it’s only when you go over the top that you see what’s on the other side of the mountain.
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Photo: Flickr/Sharon Drummond