Showtime

Well.

The big question I've been dreading finally arrived, and I have to say - with a king-sized sigh of relief - that it wasn't even all that painful.

We spent a great afternoon at Nyika's house watching the Bears play the Packers. Ayize loved "cooking" with Kayla - they made fake cupcakes, birthday cakes, and ice cream cones - but his high point of the afternoon was playing with Daryle. He headed into the kitchen repeatedly during the game, while D was making dinner, to "talk" about everything from what he was doing to what I did that made him mad. Later, he and the girls played a game that involved running around the first floor at top speed while shouting, "Daddy!" to get Daryle's attention, who would then hide, or disappear, but leave a dancing monkey doll in his place, much to the girls' delight (and Ayize's delighted terror).

Eventually, we headed home. Ayize was exhausted, after a long, fun day with no nap, and unusually quiet in the car. We got home and went through our usual nighttime routine of getting in the house, stashing coats and boots for the night, and taking care of our pets together. Then he branched off to play with his trains while I cooked dinner.

He wolfed down his ravioli with tomato-cream sauce, then ate a whole Morningstar chik patty, and polished off a Jazz apple thinly sliced for dessert. By now, it was so late, and his yawns were coming so fast and furious, that even his bedtime bath was dropped by the wayside.

Instead, he got changed into jammies and we read Hibernation Station. Then I broke out Goodnight Moon, which we haven't read in forever, because I've been wondering if it really does contain a "hidden" scene from The Runaway Bunny in its pages, as I thought I remembered (it does). I happily satisfied my curiosity while Ayize thrilled to the "new" book. He did a great job of naming everything in it, and counting the number of socks and mittens and kittens and clocks.

I turned on our "magic" sleep machine (my brother showed me a free iPhone app called ER Lite which will play the sound of waves and birdsong in a continuous loop, and it has had the most wonderful effect on both of our sleeping patterns), turned off the bedside light, and flopped down next to Ayize on his giant queen-sized mattress. I have a little twinner for myself on the floor, but his is just so...much...more...comfy! And I was so.......tiiiiiiired - I think I'm coming down with a little bug or something, and I'm drowsy and stuffed up and achy all over. I was just going to give in to the sleep gods and drift away (despite the pesky voice inside my mind insisting, Hey the dog needs to go out, it's been 15 minutes. But that's a story for another day...)

And that's when the question came. Actually, first Ayize just hollered out, in a calling kind of voice, "Daaaaaah-ddyyyyyy?"

I lay perfectly still, perfectly awake, beside him, my heart thudding a bit wildly in my chest. I was sure I misheard him, I must have misheard him, in fact, I had just convinced myself I had when...

"Mama. Where daddy is?"

"Uhhhhh. You mean, Maddie, right?" (Maddie is his cousin.)

Silence.

I began to relax and drift again, happy it was all a misunderstanding.

"Mama, where is the daddy?"

Crap. I hadn't.

"Whose daddy, honey?"

"Ayize daddy."

OH CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAP. Now I was wide awake and freaking out.

Now?

We were going to discuss this now???

The crushing weight of all the wrong answers I could possibly produce began to press heavily upon my chest like a box of rocks. I mean, I've envisioned this moment a million times, and in an effort to combat the stunning fear it incites (haven't we all heard about single parents who brainwash their kids with either too-stellar or too-horrid accounts of the absent parent that the children later cite as reason for their adult psychological problems???), I've worked my ass off to construct the perfect answer, one that combines neutrality of emotion with compassion and understanding, plus a large dose of reassurance. I had thought of this question so often, in fact, that I could have recited my answer to you backwards, on command. To you.

But not to my actual beloved baby boy lying beside me in the dark, holding my giant paw with his tiny hand, asking something so immense in such a little, innocent tone of voice, filled with yearning and confusion and even his general joviality, so sweet is he, to believe that all questions (even the really, really awful and hard ones) must have a simple and ultimately happy answer.

He asked, and he repeated the question, and I blanked. I blanked like I had a calculus quiz in front of me that I last studied for in 1993. I blanked like a Scrabble tile with infinite (well, 26 at least) possibilities. I blankety-blank-blanked. I blanking blanked, god-blank-it.

I paused, told him, "I'm thinking, baby...", bought some time.

Why did he ask?

And then I knew.

He asked because he had spent all afternoon watching the girls bask in the joy of playing, giggling, tickling, and being silly with their dad. He asked because he spent all last night with my family, in the presence of his beloved "Papa" (my dad), Uncle Shishin, and Uncle Davis, who played with him, tackled him, and helped him cut his cake into reasonably-sized pieces. He asked because we also went to Nyika's daughter, Kayla's, birthday party yesterday, where Daryle and my friend Jeff helped him climb, dive in the ball pit, and jump around on trampolines. He asked because we were looking at photos on my computer the other day and he was asking to see "Peetah" (his godfather), and "Unca Jo Jo", who we often video-chat with, so I pulled out some photos of all four of us together on a trip to Wagner Farm last summer and then basked in the happy memories of that outing right alongside him. He asked because our pal Brady's dad, Tom, is forever getting down and dirty with the kids, happy to play right alongside them, with pirate swords and Matchbox cars and Thomas trains, and happens to have a special affinity with Ayize. He asked because we always Terry have looking over our shoulder, who got Ayize a rocking Big Wheel to ride this spring, who helped us weather-proof our house when we were shivering at night because of old windows with no storms. He asked because he loves nothing more than to be at the beach, or pool, playground, or Brianna's house when her fantastic dad, Dan, gets off work and comes to play with his kids and Ayize, who he always includes in the fun. He asked because we spent last Sunday at Grandpa Reggie's house with the extended family of his paternal granddad, for a birthday party for his auntie Malaika (turning all of twelve), where he was - as always - absolutely drenched in love and affection, and encouraged to head down to the basement where the adult men watch football on TV and shout advice and encouragement to players while the younger boys rough and tumble all over the carpeted floor. He asked because a couple Sundays before that, we stopped by to see Carl - an old friend of Ayize's father who has kindly stayed in touch with us and always makes time for Ayize - and we finally got to meet Carl's adorable, sweet son, Tre. And as Ayize sat on the floor, playing with his awesome new talking Tonka truck from beloved Grammy Pam, I could see him sizing up Tre, AKA Carl III, and wondering how he and Carl Jr. and Grandpa Carl Sr. all fit together like puzzle pieces.

Mostly he asked, I think, because he really just is wondering where, in all of this mannishness, his own "man", his own father, is - the one he can run to and hug and greet with a screamed "Daddy!" at the end of each workday, before sitting down to the dinner table, as many of our friends do just as we are saying our goodbyes and heading home for our own comfortable, but solitary, routine.

And then suddenly I knew what my answer would be, the right answer. For us, anyway. I don't even remember the perfectly-practiced one anymore, frankly - it just slipped away.

I said, "Ayize, you do have a dad, but he is very far away right now. But you have me, and you will always have me, forever and ever, no matter what. I'm okay with it being just the two of us. Are you?"

He nodded in the semi-dark from the motion detector light outside our window that the bunnies are forever setting off, and I started to tear up and had to restrain myself from just gathering him up into my arms and squeezing him tight and kissing him and crying.

"Okay, well, we have us. And you have Peter, and Daryle, and Jeff, and Carl, and Dan, and Terry, and Tom, and of course Papa, and Grandpa Reggie, and Uncle Shishin, Uncle Jo Jo and Uncle Davis, and many others. And they're not your dads, but they are great men who love you very much and will help you in any way you ever need. So - what you have is as good, if not better, than one single dad - you have a whole circle of people around you who will love and protect you as you grow. Does that make sense, honey?"

He was silent for a moment, and then he made a sniffly sound, but I couldn't tell if he was just stuffed up, or really sniffling.

"Are you okay with that, sweetie pie? Do you understand?"

Big dramatic lion-sized SIIIIIIIIIIIGH from beside me, and then, "I'm okay, Mama. I'm okay."

And he rolled over towards me and put his arms tight around my neck and fell asleep, just like that.

I know this question is just the beginning of a long road towards understanding for Ayize, but I'm happy that at least we've broached it for the first time. And - knock on wood - successfully, at that.

I think.

Sigh.

I'm okay, too baby. We'll be okay.

* * * * *

I wanted to add this quick tribute in pictures. I literally slapped this together in the last twenty minutes from my iPhoto file, and there are a million more where these came from. They may not be the best photos, but they're just a quick glimpse, a true representation, of the love and laughter and support Ayize receives from his "guys".

Papa:

Grandpa Reggie:

Uncle Shishin:

Uncle Jo Jo:

Uncle Davis:

Godfather Pete:

Jeff:

Daryle:

Dan:

And of course, Carl, his brother, dad, and adorable son, and beloved Grammy Pam:

Tom:

And last, but certainly not least, Terry:

[Actually, one more...a self-congratulatory pat on the back to the everyday "dad"!

Hey, someone's gotta hammer in the nails, paint the walls, fix leaking faucets and lazy-flushing toilets, change the fire alarms and lightbulbs, waterproof the basement cracks...I could go on. Might as well show myself a little love while I'm at it! LOL]