I can’t remember when I lost my first tooth, let alone
When it came in

I don’t remember being at Nana’s house
Trying to walk and falling across the edge
Of her old dark-brown wood coffee table
Turning my 1 year old face into a mess of
Blood and panic

I can’t recall much about being a baby
That’s for certain!
But when my son took his little tumble
Off the living room couch
This past Saturday

I instantly knew the fear of knee scrapes, bloody noses,
Bumps on the head
And every other little boo boo my boy will
Possess through out is youth

And I am scared shitless!

I’m instantly terrified of that cool cat
Who always cuts class and burns newports
Outside science
Talking in my boy’s ear about gangs and rights of passage
Weed and chicks that “can get it”
Or worse, my son being that cool cat
Influencing his friends

Just like his dad…

Yes I worry that his bumps and bruises become
Cuts and wounds
That goes deeper than epidermis
Breaking his sweet demeanor
And adversely affect the pristine existence his mother and I
carved out for him

I worry that he’ll drive from school and not make it to work
I worry he falls out of his tree house and breaks his leg
Or tears his ACL while dunking on Shaq’s eldest…

I mean, yeah he’s 7 months old
But the boy is serious!
He smiles at me every night with my lips and eyebrow motions staring back at me
He conquered solids like Armstrong’s cycling
And in his mind, crawling’s for babies… my bamma wants to walk!

and
I guess my concern is

Will he be as angry with me as I was with her
Will he leave to seek his fame and forget
To call us here at home as much as I did after I escaped…

Will he be the man I am or the fool I was

Cause in truth, I went through it

I have seen more than I choose to
Felt more pain than I should
Caused more pain than should
And cried more times than any one will ever know

But those bruises brought me here
To him
And if that’s my path I accept it

Welcome to parenthood, young patoine