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Kiss, Kiss, Kiss

A long time ago, Fisher randomly introduced a three-kiss routine at bedtime: one kiss, one kiss on the top of Fisher’s head, and one kiss on the top of Daddy’s. Done. After one recent kiss-kiss-kiss…

F (in a very worried tone): Daddy, are you going to get your hair cut soon?
D: Yes, probably.
F: Oooooh!
D: What’s the matter?
F: If they cut your hair, then you won’t have all my kisses on there anymore.

Pause.

D: Well, you can always give me more after I get my hair cut, right?
F (reluctantly): Oh, okay, Daddy.

Now he has introduced his shampoo-proof kisses to the schoolyard goodbye. At a November parent-teacher conference, Mrs. Schubert explained that she had seen Fisher’s behavior many times before: sudden bouts of separation anxiety that appear worrisome at some point before the kindergarten winter break but that disappear, just as suddenly, right after it. There is apparently something about taking a break from school over Christmas and New Year’s that makes coming back a breeze. School becomes an old friend, and you don’t wail and apply a death grip to your daddy’s hand when you see an old friend.

So, now, when the bell rings, instead of Daddy prying Fisher off the play structure, he jumps off by himself and comes over.

F: Daddy, will you pick me up early, like you did the other day?
D (unsure what other day he’s referring to): I’ll try. But, remember, Papa is picking you up today.
F: Can you tell Papa to pick me up early, like you did the, er, uh, eh, other day?
D: I’ll tell him.

He gives me a kiss, takes Daddy’s baseball cap off and kisses the top of Daddy’s head, maneuvers his own head to receive a kiss on top of it, and puts Daddy’s cap back on.

D: Have a good day, Fisher.
F (marching into his classroom): Thanks, Daddy. You, too.

Cute little bag of nuts.

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