Like so many other children, tonight my son will get dressed up in his scary-best and my wife and I will traipse him around town, knocking on strangers’ doors, and begging for sweets.   This is no different than what a half-billion other children are doing all across the Western hemisphere.

Almost.

The difference being, of course, that my son cannot eat any of it — not a single piece.   Being strongly milk-soy protein intolerant, plus a host of other food-related allergies, it almost completely eliminates him from any and all consumption of the treats he’s about to procure over the evening’s activities.

While for many the lure of the sugar high may be a great motivator, Keston only has…his costume?  Prancing around in the cold for amusement?   Walking two miles with an eye patch on to practice his manners every couple of minutes?   He’ll see plenty of others having fun eating all the loot and he’ll get….nothing.    Maybe a banana, if we have any left.

Such amusement.

Whatever his motivation is, he’s damned excited about doing it and will have a great time.    Despite a major component of the entire experience being removed, he’ll be chirpy and giggly and have a thoroughly good time prancing around, spending time with us, walking hand-in-hand, and enjoying being dressed up and talking to anyone that will listen.

And really….shouldn’t we all be so excited?    Do we always need a prize, a treasure of physical form, to go out and do something with others, the community, our friends, and our family?

Bless his innocence and spirit a thousand times.   I do not relish the day it is snuffed by the world.

Arrr.....

Parents:  How often do you stop and really look at your child?

“What do you mean?” I hear you ask.   “I’m looking at them ALL THE TIME.    Gotta.   They’d shave the cat with a Brillo pad, spray paint the dog bright pink, and completely disassemble the DVD player in a few minutes if I didn’t.”

One of the big problems with being a parent is that far too often we — myself included — get stuck deep into our, “parenting mode”, and although we’re looking AT our children, we’re not really looking at them.   We’re actually looking past them — we’re watching their behavior, checking for signs of distress, eyeing out potential hazards, or trying desperately to stay one step ahead of their crafty little minds and anticipate what next thing they will find amusing that you certainly will not.

Other times, when we know are kids are in a safe place, we have a tendency to tune them out.    How many times have you said, “That’s wonderful, dear,” as you glaze off at the TV program you’re watching and Junior is trying to show you his crayon drawing for the 14th time?    Guilty!   And hey, I get it; kids can’t — and shouldn’t — get 100% of our concentration 100% of the time.   They’ll manage and survive fine if we don’t coo wildly over every single thing they do or jump to their every whim.

The problem comes when we fail to come back out of our parenting or zone-out mode and recognize what is truly in front of us — and how amazing, wonderful, and unique it is.    And what a privilege we have been given at getting to be so involved in it.

Keston was playing on my lap the other night and he was in a mood to be a bit snuggly and close so we were sitting face-to-face as he talked to me and played with my face and beard.    At first I found myself gazing past him as I talked to my wife and checked out the TV and so forth, and then suddenly, I stopped.

My eyes — and more importantly, my mind — switched focus to concentrate on him.    Looking deep into those eyes like I used to all the time when he was first born, noting the expressions and thoughts behind those liquid windows.    He was suddenly quiet and gazed right back at me, a curious expression on his face as he tried to figure out what I was doing.  My eyes played over the delicate features of his face, eyelashes, cheeks, nose, noting all the while the perfection and beauty in each of them.    All at the same time, feeling and allowing myself to recognize and savor the emotions of connection and happiness and protectiveness and pride that swelled up inside of me when I really stopped to look.

The cliché about kids growing up too fast is all too real, raw, and frightening once you become a parent.   He’s only three and already I look back on pictures from his earlier years and go, “Was he THAT small?  He looked like THAT!?  I don’t remember!”   I don’t want to be one of those parents that suddenly gets a clearing of their vision about the time their child turns 14 and goes, “Who are you, where did you come from, and are you going to do your laundry anytime soon??”

So, I’m going to try my hardest to stop and look more.   To savor what I can and capture as much as I am able.   To parent when I must, but to avoid the trap of familiarity.   To really look.

I hope I never fail to see him.

I’ll be brief, because sometimes it’s ok to be men’s underwear.

Today I had an OK day and a simply shocking, horrific evening, and the only saving grace was that I was able to come upstairs after banging my head against a brick wall for long, tedious hours, plop my ass down on the floor, and say to the cute little boy across the room, “Come give Daddy snuggles.”    He padded across the room, wrapped his arms around my neck, and laid his head on my shoulder for a few moments before dragging me off to the table to play with trains and cars and to comment on the TV cartoon.

I wonder if he knows that as much as he needs me at this time in his life, sometimes I need him just as badly.     Thanks a ton, buddy.

You don’t have to have a kid.

Seriously.   I know how societal pressures are, especially from your parents who may be the type that are just dying to get their hands on a baby and spoil it rotten.    Some can be sweet and gentle about it, but I’ve heard stories of those who are downright, “You will give me a grandchild, NOW!” to which I have no rational answer that doesn’t involve propping my mouth open like a codfish.

You don’t have to have a kid.

It’s hard when all your peers are making strides in life and you aren’t keeping up with the Joneses — I know.    When everyone has a snuggle buddy and you are the third wheel, you are left out.    When everyone else seems to be engaged, it’s hard not to have diamond lust and to be picking out china.   And when they’re all getting married, I’ve sat right along with you in a pew and wished I was the one standing at the top of the aisle and not them.    It sucks.    The desire to have kids can be even worse when everyone around you is pregnant or blowing raspberries into tiny bellies.

But…you don’t have to have a kid.

I have huge amounts of respect for two groups of people — those that are parents or want to be parents and love and adore their children (or their future children), and those that have said, “I never, ever want in a million years to have children and I’m not going to and I’m ok with that.”     It’s insanely harder to make that second statement, but bless every one of you for bucking society and doing what’s right for you and not what everyone says you must.

Really — you don’t have to have a kid.

The first group of people really bother me are those who fall victim to peer pressure and have a child, either because they receive pressure from relatives or friends or simply via society and marketing, but in reality, they didn’t actually want to have children as badly as everyone else wanted them to, and now they are miserable or at least not nearly as happy as they might have been otherwise.    I realize, there’s a lot of accidents out there — and they happen — and plenty of people who thought they would never want a kid, but once they did, they love it.    But there’s plenty of folks who took the leap for bad reasons.    And plenty more who will do so in the future.

I’d like to tell all these folks — you don’t have to have a kid.

The second group is parents who already have a child, thought it would be all roses and sunshine farts, and have found out that parenting and child-rearing is tough, thankless, and really cramping their style or patience.  And yet – YET — despite this personal hell that they’ve created, they want to have MORE! What the hell!?    You mean you haven’t had enough of pulling out your hair, feeling like a piece of microwaved crap, or having to grip onto your wine glass tightly to avoid mentally cracking?   Usually this is a result of — you guessed it!  Peer pressure.     Everyone else has two kids, so we should, too.    Or:  “I love being pregnant!”    “I love babies, just not toddlers.”   Or any other mind-bendingly stupid sentiment.

Get a reality check, folks — you don’t have to have a kid.   Or another one.

I am not anti-children, nor am I anti-parents.    And I fully appreciate that some parents are simply uncertain until they actually DO it and then they are lovely and wonderful and their kids are awesome.    I’m not trying to discourage people who are simply scared of making that leap and aren’t sure how they will do — heck, I shat myself daily until I got into fatherhood and realized I could actually do it and that I really, truly did love it.

I am encouraging those folk out there who, in their heart of hearts, really know that they should never be parents — it just doesn’t suit them — or those parents that have found out that it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be to simply Think.   Consider.   Ponder.   And make the right decision, no matter what anyone else says.     Do the best for you and for your children, conceived or unconceived, and make the right choice, not just the popular one.

I, at least, am on your side.    Because you don’t have to have a kid unless you really want to.