The First Year

"Daddy, I want you to play with me."

My son has made this request a few times this summer.

My son is entering Kindergarten in the fall. Shouldn't he be playing by himself? After all, he's old enough. He's moving on.

Of course I'm being melodramatic.

This summer has been an interesting study in better understanding childhood. My kids grew up a lot in this last school year. Most alarming to me has been my son's rhythm which now has moved on completely from naps in the daytime. Today I've decided I'm done with quiet time for him. Obviously, he's moved on.

But he needs me.

A wise guidance counselor with whom I once worked would preach to the parents of about-to-be-middle-schoolers the need for the parents to maintain their involvement in their kids' life. Common sense often tells these parents that their kids have moved to a bigger school, can and should handle more on their own. Ironically, these kids need us more in the first year of a new experience than they needed us in the last year of an old.

I guess they venture into something terrifyingly new. We're still old. And comfortable. And stable. And known.

She's right. Sam needs more of me than I think. Let's make sure I don't forget this when Caroline is 5.

* * * *

In brighter news I resurrected my Schwinn Sting Ray from my parents' garage. Good news: it's intact and working. The tires even hold air. Mine is like the red and yellow one in the ad below. Even with the grime, rust, and straw (I'm working on getting that out of the spokes) it's more beautiful than anything kids can buy today.