Maybe Next Time

Patty and I had an early appointment this Saturday morning and so had to rush out of the house with the kids still sleeping. It was something I didn't want to do as I always try to save my weekends with the kids. And so when our appointment ended earlier than we had anticipated, we hurriedly called the house and told the kids that we were going out to have breakfast.The kids love going out and we thought that the unplanned date would be a welcome treat to both of them.

We were wrong. Only Bela was waiting for us. Gabi didn't want to go. Apparently when he woke up and we were not home, he went knocking next door and asked if his friends wanted to play. And that's what he was doing when we got home. Playing ball with our neighbors, his friends from the time they were all babies.

"Sorry, Papa, but I'm already playing. You should have told me earlier." Gabi reasoned out.

"But you can always play with them after," I tried to change his mind.

"Sorry, Papa. Maybe next time."

Ahh, heartbreak.

Gabi just turned 6 and will be in Grade 1 next month. He has grown a lot. We've always wanted Gabi to be independent, to have his own friends and not to rely too much on us. Besides, we've always believed that our job as parents is to make our kids prepared to go through life on their own. In a sense, parenting is about readying our kids to leave us.

But not now! Not yet. Not for a long, long time.

"Okay, Gabi." I gave in. "But promise next time, okay?"

And I hugged him. Tight and for a long time. And kissed him over and over again. I knew he was getting a bit embarassed since his friends could see us.

But I hugged him even more. This is is my baby, and forever my baby he will be.

"Why, Papa, why?"

Bela is now at that stage when she asks questions all the time. And you better be ready with straight answers as she will not stop asking. She needs to know and she'll let you know about it.

"Why do you wear glasses, Papa?" Bela asked one afternoon after I arrived from work.

"Because I cannot see clearly without them," I tried to answer.

"And why can't you see well?" Bela wanted to know.

"Ah, because my eyes are, er, sick," I tried to simplify my answer.

"Sick? But I don't hear your eyes cough, Papa!"