“Stay there, Papa.” “I will.” “You don’t have to come inside. I’m a grown-up.” “You are, Malysh.” My son grins as his feet dangle from the toilet. I’m in his direct view while remaining outside the stall as he instructed. “I don’t call Mommy anymore,” he says. “I can do it on my own.” “That’s a good boy.” “That’s right. I am. I’m gonna be big as you and protect Mommy when I grow up.” “And what am I going to do then?” “It’s okay. You can protect her too.” Too. As in he’s being benevolent by allowing me into her life. The little rascal is taking after Yan, I swear.
