Who Wants a Seahorse Daddy?

According to a study of which I don't remember nor do I care to refer to at the moment, the average attention span of a human in the year 2000 was 12 minutes.

Today, the average attention span of a human is 8 minutes.

The average attention span of a goldfish is 9 minutes.

I'll try to make this quick. 

Goldfish, be patient.  There will be more your way.

About two weeks ago, I went to pick up my 5-year-old from school.  I used to love picking up my son from school.  When he went to preschool.  Before the divorce.  I still hold onto that mental image of excitement in his eyes when he saw me walk into the toddler room to pick him up at the end of the day.  It was as if he couldn't believe that I came for him; like he was convinced that he was trapped in that place for the rest of his life, but his daddy had come to bust him out and carry him away to freedom.  And every day he would wobble over to me, exhausted, drop to his knees just inches in front of me and reach up to me like Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption.  This was our daily ritual. 

However, this same son has recently gone through a metamorphosis.  Now, he is a kindergartener.  Now, he is using his words.  And he exercises them.  Often.  And many times, in awkward moments. 

"Daddy?  Why Daddy?  I hate you, Dad!" 

He screams from the sidewalk just around the corner of the school's exit. Then, he slinks down into his snow pants and sits on the icy pavement. 

"I don't mean to pry," says his teacher, gingerly picking her words, "but he had quite a... fit today... because... his daddy was... taking him from his mommy...he started crying uncontrollably... and the counselor had to come down and walk him around for a bit."  Her eyes were sad. Not accusing.  Just sad. 

I didn't know what to say.  No, that's not true.  I knew what to say, but didn't allow myself to say it.  I swallowed my words and instead said, "I'm sorry." 

I then walked over to my son.  Picked him up and carried him to my car.  He cried all the way. 

My fiancé later explained to me to not take it personally; 5-year-old boys want their mommies.  She told me that little boys love their fathers, but need their mothers.  Mothers are a source of comfort.  A source of security.  Mothers are familiar to little ones and they form a bond.  It is when they get older that boys start to identify with their fathers and want to be with them.  And though I love this woman very much for what she was trying to do for me, I must simply (and lovingly) say that she is full of shit.  See, the thing is, I'm not your ordinary father.  I'm a seahorse.  I carried my children in my chest.  And since the divorce, when they were squeezed out of me, I ache for them.  Even now.  As I write these words my chest aches for their loss. 

I read to my 5-year-old that night as I do every night.  And I have to say that I'm pissed at the children's storybook industry.  They are not kind to single fathers.  Especially seahorse fathers.  That night we read the book, Who Wants a Dragon?  For those who haven't read the book, it is a beautifully illustrated story about a little dragon who his looking for someone to take him.  My son and I were enjoying the book.  We were talking about the pictures and pointing out familiar words.  We were sitting on the floor against the wall of his bedroom.  Just the two of us.  He was on my lap and curled up against my chest.  And finally, we were peaceful.  It was familiar.  As we were reading, we both were feeling for the little dragon.  Nobody wanted him.  First, he goes to a witch, she rejects him.  As witches mostly do.  Then, he goes to a knight who is too frightened of him.  Then, to a princess who is disgusted because he is so dirty.  Eventually, everyone in the kingdom rejects him.  And nobody wants the little dragon, except...and this was where I started to see where this story was going...how the only person in this dragon's life who wanted him, will always want him, and will always search to find him...and my son even predicted who this person was...and as we turned the page, I could see his eyes perk up as I read the words, "Nobody wanted the little dragon except his...DADDY!"

"What?  His daddy?  It says, his daddy?"

"Yup.  It says.  Daddy.  And the little dragon flies away with his daddy."