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“Momma wants to be a wolf sometimes, too?”
I nodded and kissed his forehead. “That’s right. She wants to be like us, too.”
He let out a quiet breath, his eyes looking ahead seemingly at nothing. He had put on his thinking face.
“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” I asked.
“I’m going to feel a lot less scared if she’s able to become a wolf,” he said.
I backed up from him to look down at his little worried face, and he met my gaze. “Have you been worrying about Momma getting hurt?” I asked. “Is that something you’ve been thinking about?”
He pressed his lips together and gave a slow, almost hesitant nod. It seemed like he didn’t know if it was acceptable to be worried. Then again, I’d asked the question a little bit sharply. It wasn’t because I was angry at him for worrying about it or anything. It was because a five-year-old shouldn’t even have to think about mortality and safety issues.
“Well...there was that mean man who took Momma...and she told me to hide in the closet, and he took her away,” he said. “And then Ashton at the mountain house...he tried to attack her. And I stood in front of her, but it was really scary. I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep Ashton away from her.”
He looked so defeated by that admission, and it broke my heart in two. He shouldn’t be thinking about how to protect his mother.
“Buddy,” I said, cupping his tiny face in my hands. “You don’t ever have to worry about keeping scary people away. That’s my job, and Momma’s job, and Nanny and Gramps’s job.”
“But you went away,” he said. “You were gone for a lot of sleeps. And if you aren’t at home, you said I was man of the house, so I have to be brave and strong like you and stop people from hurting me and Momma.”
I understood how he’d come to that conclusion. Calling him the man of the house had always been something I’d done out of playful affection. I never thought he’d ever internalize it as having to fulfill my role while I was gone.
“Tell you what, bud,” I said. “Let’s head back home, and you and me and Mom will watch a movie and order some pizza. And we can talk about the ways things change if something happens to me, okay? We’ll talk about who protects you, and protects Marley, and protects everyone else, okay? Would that help you feel a little less worried?”
He nodded, frowning a little. “Yeah, I think so,” he said. “I want to be brave and strong like you.”
“You are brave and strong, kiddo. You are, I promise you,” I said, feeling a little tenderness in my throat.
It was difficult to face the reality that my son’s obsession with protection and safety was a direct result of my failure at the cannery. But I remembered being a kid. I remembered how frustrating it felt to know when things were going wrong and be told by every adult in your life that it was nothing to worry about. I didn’t want to do that to my son. If he was aware enough to think about the hypotheticals of my absence, it was my job to strategize those worries away for him.
I got in the car, and we made our way up to headquarters. The drive was a little quiet. I was locked in my head, and I could only assume that Noah was, too, by the way he was zoning out on the scenery passing by outside.
I felt guilty for not realizing my son was so anxious and worried...about me, about Marley, about his own future. It felt wrong in so many ways that this had been boiling under the surface and in my hyperfocus on...well, everything...I hadn’t seen that my son was scared.
When we got home and parked the car, Marley was already standing outside near the front door. Her brows were high with worry as I got out of the car—she must have felt my guilt by the time I got closer to home. I helped Noah out of the car seat, and he happily air-planed over to her. She beamed as he came in for a landing, using the momentum of his trajectory to help her lift him into her arms.
“Are you a pilot?” she asked him.
“We learned about jets today, Momma! Daddy said I could tell you all about them,” he said. “And that we can watch a movie together and order pizza.”
“Wow! That sounds like an amazing night!” she exclaimed. “What movie should we watch?”
“Mmm...one with planes!”
“Shocking, I know,” I said as I approached them both, kissing my wife on the cheek. “But before all of that, we need to take a bath, alright, Noah?”
“After the movie!”
“No way, little man,” Marley said. “You will fall asleep and be a little monster when we wake you up for your bath.”
“I won’t fall asleep!” he insisted. “I’m a big boy now. I’m almost six.”
“You’re a super big boy,” Marley said. “And big boys take their baths first so they can just enjoy the movie and go to bed, alright?”
“Okay, okay. Let me down, and I’ll go start it,” he said, wiggling in Marley’s arms.
She chuckled and set him down. “In a hurry? I can run your bath for you.”
