I’ve always wished that I could stop my children from aging. Just freeze them at a point in their life so that we could all well and thoroughly enjoy it. There were a few ages that I was particularly fond of. Just after learning to crawl. Just as they were acquiring speech. 18 months was nice. Two years. The time between their first smile, first laugh, first word, first step… it’s all too brief. I’d have loved to stop their aging at any of those times and live with them that way, not forever, but for a few years. Five? Yes, diapers and all.

But time, as they say, marches on.

I was talking to my daughter on Saturday after she and her brother had finished playing in the water. It was a warm day so we took the Slip ‘n Slide out of storage. She came to me with her towel and asked, “Daddy, can you help me dry off?”

“Sure I can, sweetie. It’s my job to help.” I took the towel and started drying her hair. She looked at me and said, with a devotion to an idealistic view of parenting that only a child can have, full of innocence and trust, “That’s right. It’s your job to take care of me.” She said it as if it was an immutable law of the universe, with the same confidence she has in the sun rising tomorrow. I put the towel around her shoulders and said, “But it’s also my job to teach you how to take care of yourself. And some day you’re going to have to dry yourself.” I patted her shoulders dry and rubbed her arms through the towel.

We stood there in the sun together for a few moments as it moved toward the horizon, a small puddle forming beneath her feet from the water dripping out of her swimsuit, the sun’s rays imparting a warm, golden glow to the air. The world seemed very still. She asked, “When I’m eleven, will you still help me sometimes?” I smiled. “Of course. I’ll help you even when you’re my age, sweetie, if you’ll let me.” And then she laughed, the sound of it like the sudden shattering of crystal into a thousand musical notes that somehow play in perfect harmony. “I’ll never be your age, Daddy!” I rolled my eyes and sent her skipping inside.

I wish that was true, sweetie. I do so wish that was true.