‘Daddy, why do you always hold my hand?’
‘I thought you liked holding Daddy’s hand? Oh! Do you get embarrassed? Does it make you feel like you aren’t a big girl?’
‘No. I quite like feeling not so big. But you always hold it. Aaaaaalways. Why?’
‘Well, for a few reasons. I don’t want to lose you.’
I see a duck on the lake and excitedly start my way towards it. My arm is tugged and I realise I’m pulling. I stop.
'See?’ Daddy asks, 'you could easily have fell into the lake or that duck could have eaten you. Then where would we be?’
I giggle and swing our clasped hands playfully.'I’d be in the duck’s belly,’ I laugh.
'Exactly. We don’t want that, do we?’ Daddy smiles down at me.
'Noooo!’ I agree, frowning solemnly.
I forget I even asked a question before he continues. 'Another reason I like to hold your hand is so I can lead you to places I want us to go.’
I shuffle my feet and protest by inhaling. 'That’s like I’m a dog!! AAAAND…what if I know which place I need to go?’
Daddy laughs heartily. 'You’re more of a little monkey! Anyway, it’s my job to make sure you get where I want you to go. If I hold your hand, I can be sure you get there safely, with me.’
'Hmm. Ok, but I can still see you and still hear you.’
'Ahh, but sometimes you don’t look and sometimes you don’t listen’ he raised an eyebrow.
'But you can always see and hear me!’ I exclaim.
'Haha! Oh you aren’t wrong! But it’s different to feel you, and hold you. Don’t you think?’
Daddy went on, 'when I tuck you in, it isn’t enough to see me or hear me is it? Eventually you close your eyes and you start to fall asleep. I stroke your hair. That way, you can be doubly sure I’m still there can’t you? It makes you feel safe to know I’m definitely with you just that little bit extra, doesn’t it?’
'Yes! I’d be sad if you didn’t stroke my hair when I fall asleep.’
'Exactly! That is how Daddy feels. He feels that little bit safer knowing he has you. And that you’re absolutely, definitely, undoubtedly with me all the time.’
'Ohhhhhh! I understand now!’
'But the biggest reason…’ He pulls me in.
“is that you are mine. When I hold your hand, you are mine. Everyone knows not to hurt you. I can keep you safe when you are close. I can know so much about you when I hold you because your hands talk too.’
I laugh, 'my hands don’t talk silly Daddy!’
'Oh yes they do. They tell me when you are scared, excited, too hot or too cold. They even tell me when you need to pee. Although you usually do a funny dance too.’
'Shhhh’, I look around to make sure no one heard and pout up at him.
'Your hands are just as important and as lovely as your eyes, your voice. Why should I leave your hands out?’
'I love to look in your eyes, so I look. I love to hear your voice, so I listen.’
'I love to hold your hand, and that’s why I always hold it.’
