Our son is adorable. How do I know this? I know it because I’m his father and fathers are always right. If you don’t believe me feel free to ask his mother: she’ll tell you the same thing. This adorableness is directly responsible for the fact that our son has recently fulfilled sort of an unknown wish of my life. The Christmas season is a whimsical and magical time of goodwill and happiness. It is one of those yearly events that lasts far longer than the single day it is meant to celebrate and impresses itself upon the memories of those who have celebrated it each year since they can remember (and even longer). For some reason red garments made of warm fabric remind me of the season and recently our son was wearing one of those garments and I felt a great joy.
Children also, of course, remind me of the simple joys of the season. Far beyond the sense of wonder in their eyes (something my son has when looking at our lit up Chirstmas tree) there is also a sense of warmth and magic and whimsy about the season. The entire holiday itself centers on the birth of a child. When my son came running out of his room with messy hair, bare legs, and bright eyes staring at our tree in a red outfit I sort of transported back to an imagined past of my own. I must have been just like this. Whatever he is thinking right at this moment must have been what I was thinking too. It was a incommunicable moment that transcended generations and somehow reminded me of a moment in my own past that I will never remember but at that moment experienced. One of the true joys of being a father, I’m finding, is reliving your past through your child’s present. Not in a selfish way, but with a sense of wonder and awe and renewed importance of both being a child and protecting that childishness in them. I can’t wait for Chirstmas day.