Other Kid, the little boy we used to babysit, is not so little anymore. He's a five year old in size 5 shoes and size 7 jeans--at five, he's only a few inches shorter than 12-year-old Daughter-Only. Even though he's not here forty-plus hours a week anymore, I still see him fairly regularly and still somehow am stunned by how quickly he's growing up.
In keeping with his size, age, and gender he works at being mini-macho and usually is too grown up to have his hand held by an actual grown up in public. He made an exception during a visit this afternoon while he and I were out for a walk. He was balancing on a curb and grabbed my hand to steady himself. Once he'd returned to the regular sidewalk, he didn't immediately let go of my hand. We walked along for another twenty feet or so, hand-in-hand.
Then Other Kid said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "Let's not hold hands anymore. Someone might freak out if they see us. They might think we're married."
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