She said… I was walking my son, Grant, to school the other day. He’s 11. Suddenly, and so naturally, he took my hand. Keep in mind, Grant has been the cuddler and charmer of the family. For years, he has said things to me like “that pot roast is pretty but not as pretty as you, Mommy” to which I respond, “Um, thank you.” He’s the first to embrace his grandparents, always hugs everyone goodnight (even his two oldest siblings who think it’s annoying but go along). He creates Hallmark-worthy greeting cards for his friends saying, “I hope this is your best year yet!” He’s a sweetie. I’ve often thought to myself, “if you keep this up, you are going to make some woman a wonderful husband!” Back to the walk. Grant took my hand and kept hold of it even though some other kids passing by, keeping a requisite 1-foot distance between themselves and their parents, turned around and looked at him like “why would you be holding your mother’s hand – ooooo.” He didn’t notice. Fearing I would spoil the moment, I went ahead and said, “You know, I think it’s nice that you still want to hold my hand.” To which he replied, “Why would I ever NOT want to hold your hand?!” Oh, I could have just eaten him with a spoon at that moment! Instead, I replied, “Well, believe it or not, there will come a time very soon, when you will not only not want to hold my hand but you won’t even want me to walk near you.”
“I can’t imagine that ever happening,” he replied.
I said to myself “remember this moment and remember this kid.” When I’m surrounded by full-on wretchedness from four children at once, I try to remember these wonderful little happy-parenting-slices-of-life that I’ve filed away in my brain. They do happen and they are so worth remembering. By the way, later that same day, Grant was a total snot to me when I wouldn’t let him play on the computer before doing homework. At that moment, had I asked him, I’m sure he couldn’t have even imagined holding my hand. I knew this was coming.