In the last few months I’ve watch my little boy grow and develop in leaps and bounds. This year he turned three years old and, in the back of my mind, I’ve been a bit sad that he is outgrowing his toddler years. Since he has been able to walk and talk we’ve been able to bond so much as father and son, as guys and as best friends. It has been a dream come true for me. I could go on and on about the things I will miss about our toddler years because I really, really will miss them.
Now I’m seeing lots of signs that he is not my precious little toddler any more. He no longer fits perfectly in my arms, he is almost too big to rock to sleep in my arms. When we go out he often doesn’t want to hold my hand. He speaks in full sentences, sometimes surprising me with how articulate he is becoming. He sometimes prefers to play with his friends instead of me.Consequently, I’ve been forced to find new comforts in the interaction and relationship with my ever growing son. A new favorite is that if I am not at home with him I can make a phone call and he will actually talk to me and hold a conversation with me. He loves telling stories of what has happened in the day, even though he sometimes struggles to find the words he is looking for. He also loves helping in the kitchen. He is quite independent, often insisting on doing something himself instead of getting help from us. It honestly puts a smile on my face seeing him grow up but that also comes with mixed feelings. He is growing up faster than I am ready for and that’s some what frightening. I don’t know everything there is to know in the world and I’m already getting fifty “Why”s from him every day. As he enter’s preschool in a few months I know there’s bound to be a situation I’m going to fumble. I have looked forward to fatherhood and I love fatherhood but I’ve never foreseen myself past this point. Past the stage where my little boy is no so little anymore. I have been forced to do what every man must do from time to time, adapt. So, as my son is taking three-years-old by the horns, I realize that I also have to grow up as a dad. With the comfort of the aforementioned new appreciations in fatherhood, I can now humbly pat myself on the back for turning three years old, in “dad years”.