Saturday, February 18, 2006

From sweet and innocent to pimp daddy in 30 seconds flat

We're closing in on my dad's birthday (March 13) and the anniversary of his death (April 2). Every year, starting about a month before his birthday, I suffer from brief moments of melancholy as I meander through my day. It happens less and less frequently as the years have gone by, but occasionally something still will trigger a memory and I'll have to retreat to my bedroom to catch my breath.

The Kid caught me in one such moment this afternoon. When he asked me what I was doing, I told him I was sad. Walking to the edge of my bed he put his hand on my knee and, mimicking my own sing-songy sympathy voice, gently asked what was the matter. I told him I was feeling lonely. He promptly climbed into my lap, gave me a giant hug, and whispered in my ear, "You shouldn't feel lonely. You're never alone when I'm here."

I know he was only stating the obvious - at least from a four year old's hyper-logical perspective - which is that you can't be lonely if there's currently someone within 20 feet of you. But it's often in their innocence that children make the most profound statements, and it was exactly what I needed to hear.

We snuggled for a minute, and then he made a suggestion: if I'm lonely, maybe I should invite people over more often. Good advice, right? Except I'm paraphrasing. Here's what he actually said:

"...cuz you know, Mom, you don't have hardly any guys coming over anymore. Only ONE comes over a lot. Why don't you just have more different guys come over to play with you, instead of only ONE?"

I say again: it's often in their innocence that children make the most profound statements.

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