Not So Fast
She’s walking now. Just like that.
Too soon. Too damned soon.
It’s barely toddling, more standing and shuffling at this point but in parenting moments it is a one small step for her, one giant leap for dadkind. And so it begins. The very first iota of independence has arrived. And with it, the day that she will not need me to carry her everywhere will be gone. For younger fathers, I understand that this is joy. You can move about freely and let them waddle along beside you, your arms finally unencumbered by the twenty odd pounds of squirming flesh in your arms. For older ones, like myself it is a bit more poignant.
Younger fathers, myself included, don’t and didn’t know how fast time flies. Now, unfortunately, I do. That toddle turns to a walk, to a lope, to a run. And though undoubtably I’ll lose a few pounds chasing her around the house, I know eventually where that first step will lead. Been there, done that.
It’ll meander through the kitchen, causing no end of consternation and drama as people with sharp knives and hot food usher her elsewhere only for her to return time and time again because that is what kids do. Then those little feet will carry her into the living room amidst squeals and yells that disturb those intently trying to take in this week’s episode of whatever is on tv.
There will be dashes up the stairs if we aren’t careful enough and lumps in throats as soon as we realize she’s already halfway up/down. Then there’s the romps through grass and snow and mud and the inevitable stomping and splashing in puddles. Following that will be little dances in the bathtub or shower as they explore their new found freedom and liberation from the baby tub. Everything is a horizon and they’ve set sail.
There will be little pitter patter in the night as she runs to our room because of something in the closet or bad dreams arrived. Then there will be the awakening to the rhythmic thump of her jumping on the bed as it’s 6 a.m. and she’s got places to be.
Extrapolate those steps out and it’ll be the first walk into school, tearful and fearful of that first day, but by afternoon that excitement of liberation is back. Now she has friends, and there’ll be walks to their houses and walks back home. Anxious moments as she’s a few minutes late and then through the door like a tornado on fire.
There’ll be stomping around as she argues with her mother and taps of her toes when she’s impatient with me. Inherently, they know the line between outright disrespect and just letting you know where they stand. Subtle differences, but kids know. It’s an art they’ve honed over months and years of manipulating you.
And I’m lucky that at the moment she’s still tenuous enough in her steps that she’s walking towards me, but that will change. One day it will about face and in the other direction. And it’ll continue on a path that takes her out that front door.
While today is baby steps and never out of reach, and she’s still holding a finger for security here and there, it will change. Soon my hand will be pushed aside, that long sought after freedom will be won. Another milestone will be realized.
So while that little unsteady slap of her feet is music in some ways, the first dance performed is all over my heart. And if my little blog here has a reason for being, other than to entertain and amuse, it’s to remind you younger guys how precious it all is, and how fleeting the moments are.
One day yours too will walk out that door, just like mine have before. And you’ll wish them well and hold back the tears and smile. But then you’ll close it and say the same thing as me……..
Too damned soon.
So if you hear me say ‘Not so fast’, it isn’t solely because I’m protecting her from a fall, it’s protecting myself from one as well.
