My son stopped by recently with his oldest daughter. It was a whirlwind visit, but 3-year-old Hannah ensured we did a little bit of everything. We used the swing and slide. We picked peas and pulled kohlrabi. We explored the prairie and played with a neighbor’s cat. We checked out the basement because Hannah informed me she’d never seen our basement before. Ever.
While they were here, my son and I had a dozen small pieces of conversation about a dozen different topics. Each time we began to talk, Hannah came up with a new topic to interrupt us. It reminded me very much of when Lance was little and we went to visit my parents. I was still their child, yet I was a mom, too.
Over the years, I’d think about the children my son might have someday. I always imagined he’d be a good dad if he got the chance. And, he is.
He has spent many Saturday mornings with Hannah running through the exercises in a gymnastics class. They read together daily. They have a dad/daughter craft time on the weekends. He’s teaching her about gardening like his dad and I (and his grandparents) taught him. Because he encourages her to work right along side him, she’s undeterred by dirt. Bugs fascinate her.
When we visited the garden, Hannah picked peas, bit off the stems and spit them on the ground before she ate the pods. Just like her dad! She found her own way into and through the prairie and didn’t even realize she lost a flip-flop on the journey. She loves nature and is ready to explore. Like her dad.
Now my son has another daughter. Eliza took her first steps recently and Dad was there cheering her on. He is a good dad. He’s patient and loving. He teaches and leads. He’s firm and nurturing. He’s involved now.
My son will always be my son, but now he’s a dad, too. And I’m oh, so proud of him. Happy Father’s Day, Lance!