When My Son Flies

When My Son Flies

Some parents don’t realize this about their children; but did you know that kids can fly? My son proves this point to me every time we go to the park. My son, Bobby, is 4 years old. He portrays the stereotypical behavior of any fiery red-headed boy, but Bobby also has a very gentle, loving, curious side to him. This side is the side that I try to nurture every chance I get. So when we go to his favorite place, the park, and when he wants to swing, I never deny him his chance to fly.

We don’t get to go to the park every day, which is why I think Bobby tries to get the most out of it whenever we go. When I tell him that we are going to the park, I can see his smile get as wide and bright as the twinkle in his eyes. Only at the park do I let him run around and make noise like a “hoodlum”; so he knows that the park is his chance to be free. Only sometimes will he stop to say “hi” to another little boy or girl, but his first action as a free child is to run to the first available swing he sees. As soon as Bobby can feel the black rubber seat of the swing he immediately calls out in his whiny, 4 year-old voice, “Mommy! Come push me, please!” Knowing that I would be promptly called to duty, I am only five or six steps behind him. I help him onto the swing, make sure he grips the chain tightly, and watch his mouth grow from a grin to an open-mouth, teeth showing smile.

Now, most parents would go behind their child to push them. I am no ordinary parent. I love talking with my son when I push him in the swing. I love watching him laugh when I stop him in mid-swing, only to hear him mimic his hero Buzz Light-year and cry out, “To infinity and beyond!” I let him go again and he giggles wildly as he pretends he’s a superhero flying over the city! As I push him, I love watching his face in the bright sun. When he squints I can clearly see the freckles he is developing on his nose and cheeks. His short red hair glows like fire in the suns rays and his baby teeth shine white as snow. I admire his childish face and think, “He looks like his father!” At times like these I always wonder what my little boy will be like when he grows up.

Often-times, as I push him, Bobby doesn’t say anything at all. He simply closes his eyes and contently smiles. These are the times I know to be quiet, and not to stop him in mid-swing. These are the times I know that he is letting his heart and soul fly! Sometimes he even lets go of the chains and spreads his arms out like a bird. It’s wonderful watching my little boy’s imagination. I even let myself pretend I’m with him, up in the sky, flying like a bird, feeling the wind blow across our faces and the sun shining in our eyes. I especially love it when he declares, with his eyes closed and his arms spread open wide, “I’m FLYING Mommy! Look, I’m FLYING!”

I admire my son’s child-like imagination and sometimes wish that I could be as care-free as he is. To let go of life’s troubles long enough to let my mind imagine that I am free as a bird, soaring across the sky! I wholly believe that my son can fly! I’ve even had the privilege of seeing him fly myself! I will never deny my little boy the opportunity to allow his imagination run free and let his soul fly like a bird. I love watching my son swing.


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