The End of an Age

One of my favorite times of day as a father is bedtime. In addition to frantically trying to get the kids in bed so I can enjoy a few quiet minutes before going to bed myself, are mixed in some of the most memorable moments and conversations with my children. Every family, in fact every parent, has his or her standard bedtime routine … cleaning up, questions about the day’s activities, and then there are the heart-to-heart exchanges in which you share with your kids how much you love them and how important they are to you and to your family. One of the ways that I’ve approached this is to ask my children every single day at the end of the day who my favorite X year old is. Their answers range from a quick “me” or “I am” to a silly response like “mommy”, followed by a flood of giggles. Several years ago my oldest son caught me off guard. We went through the normal bedtime routine, and once again, I asked him who my favorite boy was. He paused and looked at me and then asked “Daddy, why do you ask me that every night?”

A little surprised by the serious tone of the question, I thought about my answer for a minute. In truth there are lots of reasons for asking the question and making sure he knows the answer. It could be to boost his confidence. It could be to let him know how important he is to me. It could be to pick him up at the end of a rough day. But his question was more focused … he wanted to know why the repetition was necessary. Why do you ask me that EVERY NIGHT?”

After pondering the possible responses, I believe God provided some clarity, and I told him that I asked him the same question every night because I never want him to forget that he is my favorite boy. Regardless of what he might do or say, regardless of where he might be and what trouble he might get into, that he is my favorite. I never want him to forget that I love him with all of my heart and would do anything to protect or save him. I never want him to forget that he is more important to me than “me”. Rather proud of my answer and expecting a response something like “WOW, daddy, what great insight … thanks”, I looked down at my son and he said “OK” and rolled over and went to sleep.

Today, my youngest son turned four. While its fun to see him growing and getting older, the realization that I'll never be able to say "Who is my favorite three-year old?" has led to much reflection. The end of an age ... I have been blessed to witness each day of that age, and I will miss it!