I was working late into the wee small hours. The house was cold, quiet and dark. I furiously bashed away at the keyboard trying to get another page of this website finished off.
Out of the silence I heard a noise from the other end of the house. Small, sad footsteps getting closer and faster.
Noah appeared at the door to the Lounge and he looked ready to burst into tears. His nightmare was just too scary and he needed a cuddle.
I told him his first choice parent was fast asleep in bed so Dad would have to do tonight. He didn’t seem to mind too much as he sat down and snuggled into my lap, pulling my arms around his chest.
I was sad that he was sad, but happy that I was the one who got to reassure him this once.
As Noah calmed down he started to compare his hands with mine. Both of us could see how tiny his hands were in the palm of my giant fat man hands.
Dad, your hands are so big?
When you are all grown up Noah, your hands will be this big! I said.
He thought for a minute and said,
Dad, one day I’ll have my own little boy with little hands. When he is scared I can show him my big hands and tell him your story.
He jumped up, hugged me and ran back to bed.