Hallmark Moments...Or Not

I thought we were going to have a Hallmark moment when The Boy asked, "Papa, would you swing me on the swing?"

I looked over and uttered "awwww" as in "how sweet is that?"

Well, The Boy knows how to work it, so he turned to me. "Will you swing me on the swing, Mama? Pleeeaaase? Will you?"

I'm at that stage where I'll say "yes" to almost any childhood request--buying a 25 cent ball of bubblegum from the machines, paying for a race car ride at the supermarket that rocks back and forth for 60 seconds, reading a picture book, singing "Twinkle, Twinkle." If it's something associated with the preschool crowd, I'm in. Will I swing him on the swing? Are you kidding? My heart is like butter. Sure, I'd be happy to swing him on the swing.

"Put on some boots," Papa called out to The Boy.

"Let me grab my shoes," I said.

"Then you'll meet me at the swings!" The Boy shouted with glee.

Begin slow-motion footage of him racing out the back door. Camera shoots from the mom's perspective as she slips on her shoes to join her little boy who is growing up so fast. Music swells as he turns to hop on the swing--screech!

What are those flashes of white?

Socks.

He's run through the soggy, rain-saturated yard in white socks. Brand-new (previously) white socks.

"Are those socks?" I shout.

Papa joins in. "Where are your boots? I told you to wear boots, it's so wet. Get back in here! Sit on the couch."

"Give me those socks," I grumble as he passes.

"Waaaaaa" The Boy wails as he flops on the couch. I toss the socks in the laundry.

"I told you to wear boots, but you chose to ignore that. Now you sit there for five minutes," Papa says. "That'll be your consequence."

Five minutes pass. He's given the green light to try again. He comes up to me. He's wearing old tennis shoes. His tone is humble. "I'll be gooder now," he promises. "I will. I've got these shoes on this time. And I got fresh socks from the sock box. Come on." He takes hold of my hand. "Come on, push me on the swing."

Gooder. Oh, my butter-heart oozes (cue the strings). Too soon, he'll learn to pump those legs on his own and ride a bike without training wheels. Before long, he'll be driving. Next thing you know, he'll be packing for college.

I've really got to go. Someone wants to be pushed on the swing.

(Music swells as mother and son stroll to the swing set, hand-in-hand....and shoes on feet.)