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“And up.” Zayne gently lifted his son higher than the outdoor pullup bar at the park. He smiled at the innocent giggles from the little toddler. “And down.”
The toddler’s small hands could barely grasp onto the bar, but with his father securely holding onto him, the boy seemed to exude boundless confidence as he laughed with glee, completely unafraid of the height.
“Again, again, Daddy!” the boy cried out excitedly.
Zayne smiled helplessly at the toddler’s enthusiasm. While walking to the park, the toddler had noticed this outdoor exercise equipment being similar to the one his father used at home, and immediately he insisted on wanting to try it as well.
Since being a father, Zayne found himself compromising with his son on many matters, and humoring him in different ways. This was no exception as he found the sudden bonding experience quite memorable and sweet.
“Aren’t you tired already?” Zayne teased, adding, “We have been at this for almost ten minutes now. Don’t you want to play on the swings or something else?”
“One more time! Please?” his son protested. “I want to do what Daddy does!”
Hearing those words, Zayne couldn’t help but be touched by his son’s innocent sweet sentiments. “Alright,” he said, “Hold onto the bar tightly now.”
The boy’s face scrunched up with pure determination at his father’s words, giving him a firm nod in response. “I am, Daddy!”
Zayne laughed. “And up.”
The boy gasped excitedly, feeling his body lifted higher above the bar, and once more, he could see the vast view of the park far and wide. Trees lined the perimeter, and across the pathways, there were joggers on their run, average people walking their pets or new mothers pushing strollers with their little ones. He could see children his age or older running across the playground equipment, all laughing with the same joy as him.
“And down,” Zayne said, and this time, he took his son into his arms when the boy’s hands slipped free. Cradled in his arms, Zayne examined his son’s hands, remarking calmly, “That’s enough for today. We can do this another time.”
Before his son could sulk, Zayne explained gently, “Your hands are still too small to do this for so long.”
The boy looked down at his small hands, and then he tapped one of his father’s arms. Zayne looked at his son confused before he noticed the boy pointing at his father’s hand. Still confused, Zayne raised his hand, startling when the boy pressed his palm against his father’s.
His hand was still so small, much smaller when compared next to his father’s.
“When can I do what Daddy does?” his son asked dejectedly, still looking at the two palms pressed together.
Zayne’s expression softened, his own gaze shifting from his saddened son to the two palms still pressed together. Gently, Zayne’s hand curled, wrapping his son’s hand inside his.
Zayne remembered when this same hand was much smaller, just barely able to wrap around one of his fingers, and yet that small hold was much stronger than anything Zayne had ever felt up to that moment. It solidified his resolve, his determination to protect those he loved, and to serve those who were vulnerable. There was a future he wanted to see, one where his son could thrive and live freely without fears.
“You’ll get there,” Zayne said gently as he leaned down to kiss his son’s hand. He smiled when the boy pulled his hand back. Suddenly, two small hands held Zayne’s face, an act similar to how the toddler’s mother would often do to tease her husband.
“When?” his son asked, furrowing his brows in frustration. “I want to be like Daddy now.”
Zayne laughed again, seeing his wife’s impatience in his son as well. “You’re already like me,” Zayne teased. “You have my face.”
The boy wrinkled his nose at his father, seemingly not pleased with this response alone.
Casually, Zayne started walking around the park with his son still in his arms, as he pondered his next thought. “You have… my taste bud. And appetite for sweets.”
The boy crossed his arms stubbornly. “Daddy doesn’t like carrots,” he pointed out.
“Oh, so you are aware,” Zayne quipped, seeing his son’s cheeks turning pink. He raised one brow at the boy. “And yet someone is always trying to make me eat them.”
“Carrots are yummy,” his son insisted.
“Agree to disagree,” Zayne interjected, completely deadpan. He pondered for a second before speaking again, “Well then, you also… love Mommy.”
His son grinned. “Because Mommy is my mommy,” he protested, “And Mommy is Daddy’s…”
“Daddy’s what?” Zayne teased.
“Mommy is just Daddy’s…”
Zayne laughed at the simplicity of his son’s reasoning. He nodded in agreement. “You’re correct. Mommy is mine,” he said, adding, “She’s also my wife.”
“What’s a wife?”
Zayne smiled and explained to his son about the topic of marriage, albeit in a very simplified version, watching as the toddler seemed to absorb the information like a sponge. He wondered how much of this clarification would be retained, but at least by the end of the conversation, the boy seemed satisfied enough with his father’s explanation.
“But I’m still not like Daddy,” his son insisted after a moment. “Daddy can do a lot of things.”
“Because Daddy has been alive a lot longer than you have,” Zayne reasoned. “I have had a lot of years to grow and get to where I am.”
“Then when can I do what Daddy does?” the boy repeated his earlier question, seemingly more frustrated than the first time he asked.
“Hm. Maybe a couple more years,” Zayne responded vaguely, holding back his amusement at how vexed the toddler seemed to be today.
The boy pouted.
Distantly, the father-son duo heard children laughing from the playground equipment. The toddler watched from afar, seemingly curious by the older kids laughing and playing, and he zeroed in on a couple of elementary-aged boys swinging across the monkey bars with ease before landing on their feet with a strong familiar grace.
Zayne noticed his son’s lips quivering a little, sensing the faint traces of envy growing in the toddler’s heart. At this moment, he recognized when to lessen his teasing, and understanding that this frustration his son was feeling weighed heavily on his small shoulders.
To be this small and feel so many big emotions, Zayne wondered if he had ever felt similarly when he was this age. He wondered if his own father had to navigate a situation like this. Softly, a smile crept on his face as he remembered fragments of his childhood, hearing his father’s joyous laughter and cheering, mingled together with endless pride and praises to encourage his growth and confidence.
“You need to build your strength first.”
The boy looked up, curious.
“We can practice,” Zayne continued quietly. “Together.”
A familiar smile returned to his son’s face, and that alone filled Zayne with relief. As intelligent as Zayne was, he recognized his own shortcomings and limits as a human. He never lingered on his failures, always seeing them as opportunities to learn and improve.
When it came to fatherhood, Zayne eased into this role. He was influenced by his own father’s love, and he was motivated by his own wish. He wanted his son to thrive. Since that first time he held his son in his arms at the hospital, he wanted to give the universe to this little boy.
“Can Daddy show me?”
Zayne looked at where his son pointed. It was the monkey bars, now vacant. The older children had moved on to their next activity, and the playground equipment stood firmly in its place waiting for the next person to come.
“I can,” Zayne responded, walking over with his son. He placed the boy back down to the ground, and his son immediately took off laughing as he stood on the opposite end waiting for his father.
“Can you swing across too?” the boy asked again, hopping in place with excitement and anticipation.
Zayne laughed in response. “I can,” he repeated. “Watch closely now.”
He rubbed his hands together, prepping them, before he easily jumped and grabbed onto the first bar. With ease, Zayne swung across the playground equipment, grabbing one bar at a time until he reached the end.
That alone excited his son, but feeling a burst of mischievousness, Zayne didn’t stop right there. He easily shifted his body around and started to swing back into the opposite direction he came from. Behind him, he picked up on his son’s surprised gasp, clearly the boy was not expecting his father to show off like that.
As Zayne was swinging his way back to where he came from first, his son had taken off running side-by-side until they both reached the same point together. When Zayne landed on his feet, he was surprised when suddenly his son latched onto one of his legs laughing. Zayne peered down, feeling a different kind of happiness in his heart.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on the monkey bars like this… Maybe never,” he admitted sheepishly as he knelt down to his son’s eye-level. He was surprised, though, when the toddler launched himself into his father’s arms, and Zayne lost his balance, landing immediately on his bottom with his son clinging tightly to him, laughing.
“I’m going to be like you, Daddy! I’m going to do this, too!”
Instinctively, Zayne wrapped his arms around his son, hugging him tighter.
“I know you will,” Zayne reassured him, kissing his cheek. He wanted to see his son grow and thrive and meet all of his goals—however big or small, meaningful or trivial—they may all be. He wanted all of this, and selfishly, he also wanted to hold onto this small boy for just a while longer. Time was moving too fast, and Zayne wanted to cherish these small moments for as long as he could. Bittersweetly, he repeated his words, hushed, “I know you will.”