My 9-year-old son, Max, just ate a booger in front of me and then grinned, saying, “Mmmmm.”
We were in the backyard weeding because my partner, Lisa, asked me to, and Max unexpectedly volunteered. It’s not every day he’s eager to pull weeds and hang out with me.
The truth is, we embarrass each other. We’re at that awkward stage where I see him as a scruffy little boy I’d love to hug, but can’t, while he views me as this overly affectionate dad in a polo and cargo shorts, whose advice on hygiene seems outdated and irrelevant. I often wonder how I can transform this booger-eating, messy-haired child into a respectable young man.
“You know, Max,” I said, “one day you’ll eat a booger in front of someone you like. They’ll probably think it’s disgusting, but you’ll still find them cute. It’ll be so humiliating that you’ll never eat a booger again.”
He rolled his eyes, just like he always does when I dispense my wisdom. We went back to weeding in silence, and I started to question how many times he’d eaten a booger in front of others. A wave of shame hit me, and I wondered if I was failing as a parent.
Then, Max surprised me with a question: “Did you ever eat a booger in front of Mom?”
I chuckled. “Nope! I left that behind long before I met your mom. That would have embarrassed both of us.” Looking down at him, I finally asked something that had been on my mind for a while, “Do I embarrass you?”
He pondered for a moment, shoving his hands in his pockets and scuffing the dirt with his toe. Then he replied, “Only when you hug me in front of my friends.”
I had my suspicions. Just the other day, I dropped him off at school, and he dashed out of the car, narrowly avoiding traffic just to escape a hug. Part of me hoped he’d get a scare—nothing serious, just enough to show him that avoiding a hug could lead to close calls. But thankfully, nothing happened. I just stopped hugging him in public; the last thing I wanted was for him to dart into traffic again. It terrified me.
Over the past year, I’ve instinctively toned down my public displays of affection. No more holding hands, no more kisses, and I’ve been keeping my comments on his messy hair for inside the house.
“I kind of figured,” I said. “But I don’t get why.”
He didn’t launch into a long explanation about how his friends tease him or that he wanted to be treated like an adult. He just shrugged. So, I did what I’d already decided. “Alright, I won’t hug you in front of your friends anymore. Deal?”
He gave me a relieved smile that made me feel like a piece of my heart was slipping away. It was a confirmation of what I’d known for ages. I reached out for a bit of comfort. “You still love me, right?”
Max glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then he gave me a quick hug. As he pulled away, I held on for just a moment longer, wanting to savor the last bits of my little boy before he grew up even more. Then he shot me a side-eyed look that clearly said, “You’re doing it again, Dad.”
“Sorry,” I replied. He half-smiled, and we returned to weeding.
This is the reality of parenting a preteen. As your child transitions from one stage to another, they start to pull away, and their affection often fades into the background. Parents become, without a doubt, embarrassing. But as any parent will tell you, it still feels incredible to get a hug from your child, even if it’s just in the backyard where no one else can see.
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Summary
Parenting brings inevitable moments of embarrassment for both parents and children, especially as kids transition into preteen years. This article highlights the humorous yet poignant dynamics of a father-son relationship, showcasing the delicate balance of affection and the awkwardness of growing up.