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Waiting for the day my child breaks my heart

By Joe Melton | Statesville R&L

Published: December 18, 2008

As Christmas gets closer, our children's metabolism is cranking up even higher, and they are pinging off the walls even more than usual. That's fun to watch, most of the time.

I've always enjoyed this time of year, and the children make it even more fun. My wife and I feed off of their fervor for Christmas morning, basking in the excitement and warmth this season brings about.

But along with the warmth, I feel a bit of a chill blowing in from the future. The day will come when our children stop being so openly affectionate. I know it's a part of growing up, asserting independence and so on, but still I rue the day.

I've heard what other parents have said — "My kids were so sweet and cute and overflowing with warmth when they were younger, but they're not as affectionate now. They feel as if they have to act 'grown up'."

Time and again I've heard about how emotionally draining it is when kids get too old to initiate open displays of affection.

Yet, I believed it wouldn't bother me. My kids wouldn't dispense with the hugs completely, and I would relish their newfound maturity — and the ability to carry on serious conversations about weighty matters. Politics, not Pokémon. Who needs so many hugs when you can finally have profound, reflective conversations with your children?

I knew it was coming. I just thought I was much more realistic about it than other parents. So what if I'd never carry my children on my shoulders again? Never walk them to the bus stop, little hand enfolded in big, or see them scamper across a room, arms outstretched, squealing "Daddy!!!" I'd miss it, but not get all mucusy and depressed when they began to roll their eyes when I kissed their cheeks. Not this dad. The testosterone reserve was up to date and I was not going to end up as a mushy greeting card stereotype.

I was wrong.

We're not there yet with either of our kids. We've seen an occasional flash, though, with our oldest, and when the knowing chuckles cease, the pangs begin. No hugs have been spurned, no cheeks averted, no eyes rolled. Nothing that should give me pain has occurred. But the merest hints of the emotional independence to come and the accompanying drop in tenderness between a young child and her father, as it turns out, gives me pause.

I know I can still influence the outcome somewhat. I can and will continue displaying my affection. I'll show her it's always OK to be lovingly demonstrative, and I'll hold on to her little hand as long as I can, because I've become aware that, despite my knowledge of its inevitability, and the donning of my emotional armor, this change is gonna hurt.

But if I do this right, forever etched in her mind will be the knowledge that she's my little girl, and my hand and shoulder will always be there for her.