My daughter and I are both creatures of habit. We have our routines and we like to stick to them. Now that the weather is nice, that means a return to our Wednesday afternoon picnics.
To call them picnics is a stretch, but it’s the word she likes to use. After school pick up we stop at a gas station for Yoo-hoo’s and beef jerky that we sit and eat at the park. It’s a short walk over to a small nearby pond to say hi to the ducks and fishies and then she runs off to the playground. She runs off to play and I find a bench to sit.
I sit and I watch. I watch her. I watch the other parents and how they interact with their children. I watch the kids run around and yell, climb and swing, fall down and get back up. I watch time as it continues to pass me by.
I think you can tell the entire story of parenting by these afternoons at the park.
In the early days they seem so fragile, so in need of protecting. They toddle around, delighted to have new areas to explore, new things to discover. Their eyes as wide as their smiles, secure in the knowledge that we are right there, hovering, taking hundreds of pictures, ready to catch if they stumble.
And then you blink.
You blink and they’re brave. Braver than you’d like them to be. Everything now needs to be climbed, to be conquered. Stairs are no longer a problem. Slides no longer too high. All they want is to swing. “Higher, daddy! Higher!”
You blink again.
You’re way past hovering, but your eyes never stray. The excitement about playground trips is now about the other kids, playmates to chase around. Sometimes you wonder if they even care if you’re there, but eventually that moment comes when you’re needed. A skinned knee, an over-ambitious climb trying to keep up with the big kids. A moment of panic if they look around and don’t see you right away.
I spent a few minutes blinking on this last trip. We had a nice snack, a nice visit with the ducks. As I watched my little girl, stronger and more confident than I would have ever imagined her being at this age, walk off towards the playground I began to wonder if she would turn around on her way. If she still needed the reassurance of my nearby presence.
Eventually she did, and I gave her a little wave from my spot at the picnic table, grateful for the sunglasses I was wearing that day. I blinked a few more times. I’m pretty sure that the sun was in my eyes.
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A version of this post was previously published on ThirstyDaddy and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: Jeremy Barnes