One More Fatherhood Moment
Inspired by my friend’s fatherhood poem, I add this bit of a story. All true expect for the names:
The day's last moments lingered in the ribbons of pink clouds dipping to the west. They could still hear the carnival, the children's voices endless like a waterfall, the deeper hum of parents conversing, laughing, scolding. They had barely pulled Ian away, spending the last of their cash on a child’s football game requiring too much skill for a three-year old. The game operator gave him a toy anyway, just enough of a bribe to get the boy to finally leave.
He sat now in Dad's arms, clinging on in that way only tired children do. "We go 'gain tomorrow?" he asked.
"It's just here tonight," Dad answered, pretty sure the carnival would be around tomorrow but damn sure he wouldn't be going back.
"I wanna go tomorrow," Ian insisted.
"We're done with the carnival. It'll be back next year."
"I wanna throw foo'ball 'gain."
"We'll throw one at home."
"I wanna win."
"You can win." Dad stopped there, suddenly aware of a warm wetness against his side. "Ian?" he said, not really wanting to ask. "Did you just pee?"
"Yeah," the boy answered, drawn-out as if he too had just realized what happened.
"You peed on me."
"Yeah." There seemed to be almost a giggle to Ian's voice.
Feeling the wetness spread across his ribs and down his side, Dad walked on. There were three more blocks to go and he couldn't set Ian down now. In the end, the son always wins.
The day's last moments lingered in the ribbons of pink clouds dipping to the west. They could still hear the carnival, the children's voices endless like a waterfall, the deeper hum of parents conversing, laughing, scolding. They had barely pulled Ian away, spending the last of their cash on a child’s football game requiring too much skill for a three-year old. The game operator gave him a toy anyway, just enough of a bribe to get the boy to finally leave.
He sat now in Dad's arms, clinging on in that way only tired children do. "We go 'gain tomorrow?" he asked.
"It's just here tonight," Dad answered, pretty sure the carnival would be around tomorrow but damn sure he wouldn't be going back.
"I wanna go tomorrow," Ian insisted.
"We're done with the carnival. It'll be back next year."
"I wanna throw foo'ball 'gain."
"We'll throw one at home."
"I wanna win."
"You can win." Dad stopped there, suddenly aware of a warm wetness against his side. "Ian?" he said, not really wanting to ask. "Did you just pee?"
"Yeah," the boy answered, drawn-out as if he too had just realized what happened.
"You peed on me."
"Yeah." There seemed to be almost a giggle to Ian's voice.
Feeling the wetness spread across his ribs and down his side, Dad walked on. There were three more blocks to go and he couldn't set Ian down now. In the end, the son always wins.
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