I don’t have babies anymore. Sometimes I convince myself I do, but I know the truth. The years have marched on and my children are inching towards adulthood with each passing day.

When they’re young, kids are easy to understand. They’re helpless little human loaves, vulnerable to the outside world. As their parents, we need to feed them, clean them, and protect them from those who may do them harm.

For my daughter, the journey towards age-appropriate acceptance was easy. As a neurotypical girl, she grew up at the same rate we’d all expect. When she hit the age that she had to start doing things on her own, I didn’t have to realize it myself. She told me.

While many moments definitely drilled that point home, one stood out in particular. For the bulk of her elementary school career, the two of us had attended the “Little Ladies Dance”. We’d take pictures and then go to the school cafeteria where I would be left with the rest of the dads while she ran around screaming with her friends. It was a three-hour mad dash of strobe lights and cheesy Long Island D.J.s.

And I loved it.

When she hit fifth grade, it all changed. That grade had their own dance and it was only for kids. Before she left to join her friends, I kept pulling her over to take pictures with me. That’s when she said it.

Daddy. Enough. This isn’t the Little Ladies Dance.

I nodded and told her to have fun…on the outside. On the inside, I crumbled to pieces.

Still, I was glad she told me. No one wants to smother their kids and overstay their welcome. If she hadn’t done that, I would have pushed on forever. That’s not healthy for anyone.

Lucas, as is often the case, is a different story. My non-verbal little guy is maturing every day.. You can see it in his face. He has a little peach fuzz mustache that comes in on occasion and he’s outgrowing the clothes we share. I can’t count how many times seeing a photo of us standing side-by-side has left me shocked.

When it comes to caring for him, though, Lucas can still be seen as a baby. He relies on me for so much and, because of that, it can cloud my vision of him. He’s still my little guy. We can still do little guy things, right?

Well, sort of. If Lucas loves it, we do it. Raffi concerts? Sesame Street Live? Leapfrog electronic toys? Yes to all. He gravitates to these things and, even though they might be outside his age-range, I allow it. As his father, I would never stop him from enjoying the things he loves because of some societal expectation. He deserves it.

As it relates to things he doesn’t enjoy, like Halloween dress-up and kid-events in the community, I’ve learned to pull back, no matter how hard it might be. This year was one of the big ones, but I know I’m doing the right thing for him.

My boy never really loved Halloween. Sure, candy is great, but the walking through a crowded street fair or going door-to-door were always events that caused him agitation. I have spent many years leading him by the hand down the street as he pulled back, dressed like a cartoon character, crying with anguish. Every outing was cut short.

I did it because we were “supposed to”. While some may debate me on this, I felt it was the correct approach at the time. Even now, in hindsight, I feel it was right. You don’t know what he might enjoy unless you try and, even during these abbreviated gatherings, the pictures I took would serve as long-term memories. As a kid, he should, at least, try the kid things.

Now, as an on-the-cusp teenager, it’s not just something he doesn’t care for, but it’s also below his current age. I took a step back, looked at the big picture, and made an executive decision. I wasn’t going to force him to do those typical events this year. We would do a brief mid-October pumpkin patch visit with his bestie, but that was about it. It was right thing to do. In fact, it made the pumpkin patch event less annoying for him, because it wasn’t part of a month-long series of unhappy events.

But make no mistake, letting go of those babyish activities that we’ve clung to kills me. It feels the same way as that fifth grade dance I had to send my formerly tiny princess off to without me.

That’s part of parenthood, though. We do for our kids as long as it suits them. But when they get to a point where the fun outings are more for us than them, it’s our responsibility to see that. A good parent does things with their children. A great parent realizes when those things become more for the parents than for the kids.

My little man is growing up. I’ll gladly help him with anything he needs until the day I die. I’ll take him to any events he loves, regardless of their age-appropriateness. But I won’t force him to do the things he hates just because we did when he was small, no matter how comfortable they felt for me or how old it makes me feel to let them go.

Time waits for no dad and, just as I have to develop a new relationship with my growing daughter, I need to do the same thing with my non-verbal son. Just because he can’t verbalize the phrase, “I’m not a baby anymore” doesn’t mean I shouldn’t see the signs when they present themselves. If I do, then these wonderful kid activities were never really about him to begin with.