Oh, no--not I.
It was three grubby kids, ranging in ages from 7 to 13. And, they were extra grubby that day, I promise.
Sweet Baboo had decided at a young age not to have children. He got a lot of family pressure, but he knew himself; what he wanted from life, and his own limits.
And there he was. On my front porch.
And there they were.
Less than a month later, he loaded a third-grade class into the back of his very clean station wagon and took them to McDonald's for a birthday party. When we took them all home to their parents in a small, rural town, most could not tell us where they lived. We drove around, hoping they would see familiar landmarks.
It's the blue house. It's by my grandmas. oh, there's a silo, too. And some cows.
And, one by one, the kids grew up and left, except for the youngest: Mini-baboo.
From the beginning, Mini-baboo, age 8, was resistant to Sweet's attempts to set limits on his behavior. I am, I will admit, too easy on my kids. I had "single mother guilt" .
But Sweet Baboo is a rock. When Mini-baboo wanted Blue hair, I wavered; Sweet Baboo said, "No." When Mini wanted to wear lots and lots of hair gel, until his hair was white with it, Sweet grabbed the Wal clippers and performed his first "fade" haircut perfectly. I forgot when someone was grounded. Sweet Baboo always remembered. Calm, unwavering, Baboo was the rock that Mini-baboo flung himself against in an attempt to break every rule.
He made friends who, for the most part, had parents that set limits, like we did.
Sweet Baboo did, deliberately and thoughtfully, what many men have done without much much thought: He became a Dad, not just simply fathered a child.
He didn't have to. He chose to.