I love the movie Dirty Dancing. I am watching it with more and more frequency these past two years. It is a great movie to watch late at night for a few minutes. I never rewatch the whole film. Last night I watched about 15 minutes of the the movie. And, my mind went all over the place. And, then it got stuck in one particular spot. It was quite silly that she was called “baby” and only mid-way did we learn her real name. Not that her real name mattered as it was her nickname that gave the movie some of its push. And, that got me thinking about the fact that I call my son baby. I call him that all the time. Even in public much to the horror of his ten-year old self.
He likes to remind me that he is not a baby. And, I like to remind him that he will always be my baby. He is my one and only. He has to my my forever baby. That is his lot in life. And, there are worse things. That is what I like to tell him. But honestly, for how much longer can I get away with calling him baby? He is not going to star in a Dirty Dancing remake. But then again you never know.
I’d like to think I can keep calling him baby even after he gets married. But once he has kids there may be some confusion. I have entered that phase where I look at his baby pictures a lot. I have a collage hanging on the wall. In part, I miss his baby talk. I miss his unsure baby steps. I miss his baby smooth skin. But time is something that must always go forward.