Saturday, January 21, 2012

I am walking - quite close to the road - hand-in-hand with my Excellent Children heading to their local park.

I’m roughly four hundred miles from my own home. It doesn’t seem a long way to come in order to push them on the swings. I don’t see them as often as I would like.

We cross the road and enter the safe environs of the park. There are ducks, swans, trees and all the other things one associates with a decent park. Favourite Daughter immediately runs off chasing after squirrels. Favourite Son and I walk together for a little while.

God, he must feel awkward, I think to myself. He’s six now. What if he sees someone he knows? It’s not like he’s a little boy anymore. He’d be dreadfully embarrassed to be seen holding the hand of some bloke.

Me: Son? We’re nowhere near the road now. You don’t have to hold my hand anymore.

I have to accept that he’s growing-up.

Favourite Son: [Distracted, watching his hare-brained elder sister fruitlessly attempt to gain an audience with a squirrel] Mmm? I know. I want to.

It’s only four hundred miles. It’s not far at all.

I squeeze his hand a bit tighter – just for a second – and we walk along together.

28 Comments:

Blogger InvisibleWoman said...

Sweet

11:12 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Oh. Hello. And thank you.

12:09 am  
Blogger Patience_Crabstick said...

Awww. So sweet.

12:16 am  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

PB: It was just a moment. It's important not to forget the small ones. I think.

12:19 am  
Anonymous Frogdancer said...

It's the small moments that make it all worthwhile.

5:15 am  
OpenID whatkatedidnext said...

Nice one T.D.

6:31 am  
Blogger ExtraO said...

That's very sweet. My son still holds my hand and he's 10. :-)

2:05 pm  
Blogger Ellie said...

Nice. And sweet. And perfect ... Except for the four hundred miles, which might not be far for such a moment, but it would be lovely if the four hundred were only four.

3:09 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Frog: I think so.

Kate: Thanks.

ExtraO: Hello. And thanks.

Ellie: It's a chore to be honest...

4:38 pm  
Anonymous Tessa said...

Having reared a child all the way to adulthood with no casualties, I know that for every hour of grief the buggers give you, it's these small moments that make up for all of it. You're a lucky man, Dad!

8:27 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Tessa: Hello. And not as lucky as you would think.

8:32 pm  
Blogger Furtheron said...

Lovely

8:34 pm  
Anonymous Johnners said...

There's not much beats holding the hand of your child, to be honest. Nice, Tired.

9:05 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Furtheron: Thanks.

Johnners: The smell of their hair in your face is a close second, I think.

9:35 pm  
Blogger Twisted Scottish Bastard said...

Oh, God, the pathos.

Nice.

1:22 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I defy anyone not to sigh and go "Aaah" after reading that - very sweet.
My daughter still holds my hand sometimes when we're out and she's coming up for 20.

4:30 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

TSB: Cheers.

Anon: You do not say so, but if you're male you realise everyone thinks she's an escort? (Just trying to get the tone back to normal.)

7:43 pm  
Blogger looby said...

My daughters still hold my hands - they're 13 now. No idea when it'll stop but I like it.

9:03 am  
Blogger Debster said...

My daughter gets extremely embarrassed when I hold her hand. She is 19.

10:59 am  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

loob: That sounds ok to me.

Debs: And I think that's about right too.

4:52 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Small moments make for big emotions. Nooice one x

AnnAnon

6:57 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Hello Ann, whoever you are. And thanks.

7:12 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm just a random passer by and, anyway, a little mystery makes the wotsits go round, TD.

;-)

Ann Anon x

2:49 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Just joined Twitter - may* I follow you?*

https://twitter.com/#!/ann_anon

* As in... er... How do I?

3:11 am  
Blogger Alison Cross said...

My son is Eleventy and he still likes to hold my hand. Not when his friends are around, of course, but his little warm paw often sneaks its way into mine when we're out and about.

Every time he does so, I try to absorb the lovely feeling that floods through me, just in case it's the last time he wants to hold my hand.

*gets all tearful*

Ali x

5:03 pm  
Anonymous Rachel (eating Raoul) said...

I have been drinking gin, so that may be a contributory factor, but that made me cry.

You are an astonishing man (or a great blagger) and a great father (true). Just as you remember and relate tiny moments in time. that's what they will remember too. Don't stop.

8:55 pm  
Blogger Tired Dad said...

Ali, Rachel: My apologies. You've been in my spam thing.

Thanks both.

Rachel - who are you?

9:58 pm  
Anonymous Esyllt said...

This is lovely, near got a tear out of me. Your kids do sound excellent.

9:56 pm  

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