today I am thinking about:
gator with a baby daughter (I'm thinking about toddler-age-- still kind of babbling incoherently instead of talking) and his and her favorite thing EVER is when he just picks her up and throws her around.
roughness comes naturally to him. it always has. but it's different in the way he holds her-- scoops her up from behind and fits her onto his shoulders, snags her by the back of the shirt just before she runs into something, reaches over a hand that spans her entire torso to halt a random fall without moving from his place on the sofa.
it's intrinsic. it's just like him to act quickly, almost without thinking, to hold and protect. and he finds gradually that she likes when he tosses her around, manhandles her, lifts her up so high she can touch the ceiling with her grubby hands. he just grabs her, wherever she is or whatever she's doing, and she never minds so long as she can grip onto his hair or his forearm or the buckles on his work vest.
sometimes, following the sound of squealing and giggles, you find them both in the living room, your daughter's face torn in joy while gator pulls her down from where he's thrown her over his shoulder and hangs her upside down, his hands firm around her middle. he's grinning ear to ear at her, and she's laughing just as hard, even as you scold him and tell him to be careful and put her down.
he just turns that grin on you, protesting, "what? look, she likes it. no, it's fine. I've got her. oh, just relax, mama."
and you grumble something about how he's gonna kill you one day.
I think this specific kind of wrestling actually feels like a form of self-control to gator. in his head, the trust his daughter has in him is priceless. she's utterly, completely sure he won't hurt her, and by that metric, he's certain of it, too. this is the roughest he'll ever be with her; this is the final line in the sand of the violence he's been pushed toward for his entire life without ever feeling a real desire to engage in it.
this is the imaginary test he didn't realize he was taking; this is where he discovers the final, pivotal difference between roy and real fatherhood-- between roy and himself. it's by her judgement that he finally realizes how strong a grip he has on himself and on his learned behaviors.
his baby trusts him not to hurt her, and so he never will. it's as simple and groundbreaking as that.