At the Hop...

Took my son to his first dance last night. The summer program at the school he attends holds a dance during the last week of camp, and as this was his first year in the program, this was his first dance.

I'm firmly convinced that the only reason that they allow parents inside is to make us realize just how fucking old we are. The counselors are all high-school kids; even the guy who runs the program can't be more than 25 or so. All the music is current pop music. In other words, I was about as out of place as my parents, refuges from the '50s, were when they dropped me off at *my* first dance...

Secondly, I was struck by the way my son seemed firmly rooted in the middle of phases. He would still wave to his ol' dad from time to time, and came over to me when he wanted to take a break so we could sit together at the table. But on the other hand, he'd get together with his friends from school, act silly, tease the girls, etc. and when he noticed me watching him he'd shake his head and kinda shoo me off.

It won't be much longer at all before he wants me to just drop him off and leave him there. And not much longer after that before he's hitching rides with his buddies rather than his old man.

I am not looking forward to that stage. I want to freeze time, right fucking now, and hold onto that little boy who still waves to his dad even in a group of his peers. I already miss the little boy who crawled into my bed asking for "cuddle time", or asking me to read him a story. To be certain, there are many advantages to this stage - I've already crowed about spending an afternoon knocking over cans in the backyard with an air rifle; something I wouldn't have done 2 or 3 years ago.

But I can see my little boy turning into a young man... And while I'm proud of him and the young man he's becoming, part of me knows that young men turn into middle-schoolers, who turn into high-schoolers... And then... Cue "Cats in the Cradle"...

I love you, pal. No matter how big you are or how old you get.

That is all.