This morning Little Boy asked me to pick him up and carry him in my arms. While we were walking in the hallway of his school a parent asked, “Isn’t he too big to be carried like that?” I looked at her and smiled, but said nothing. I just kept walking with my eight year old boy in my arms. Why did I carry my little son in my arms, when he is perfectly capable of walking by himself? Because…
Because he asked me to.
Because I didn’t have anything else in my arms.
Because we weren’t late for school and had the time.
Because I am strong enough to still carry him.
Because I won’t always be strong enough to carry him.
Because one day he will stop asking me.
Because I realize how quickly children grow up, as I deal with Old Boy leaving for college soon.
Because it’s a loving gesture to hold someone close, as I deal with a father who is ill and I may not have as many times to hold him as I would like.
Because he is still a little boy and eight years old isn’t so big.
Because I don’t care if someone thinks I am enabling him.
Because I love my boy. Love that consumes me sometimes and I want to express it.
Because when I pick him up he puts his warm cheek next to mine and I remember why I love children so much.
Because it makes him happy…really happy. He feels loved and cared for.
Because it makes me happy.
Because it makes both of us happy.
Because we can.