As a dad of four beautiful girls (and a lovely wife – seen below 4-5 months pregnant with our son) affection, and the subsequent display, has never been a question inour household. There’s lots of “loves” (as we call them) to go around for everybody. Snuggles, hugs, and kisses abound.  But now I suddenly find myself with a different circumstance: we just had a BOY.

You must be thinking, well, so what? I mean dude, you have four kids, so what’s the big deal – right?  Well my reading friend, the big deal is that the fifth baby wasn’t another girl.  You see, as a dad of four girls, I have the girl thing down cold. We know how that gender tracks, know the ins and outs. And, as a dad, I know I’m allowed to lavish affection on my four girls. But what do I do with a BOY?

For those of you with boys already, or that maybe didn’t grow up in my *slightly* dysfunctional family, you may not be seeing

the issue AS an issue, but for me this is a big deal. It’s a deal that goes way back to my roots.

I grew up as the third and youngest child (as well as youngest boy) in an old

school (you kiss your kids and tell them you love them when they’re asleep) Italian household. Don’t let those movies about gangsters kid you, nor the stereotype of the old world Italian guys kissing each other in greeting prejudice your thoughts. My household could have taught those overly demonstrative Puritans and Pilgrims a thing or two. The only violent display of emotion in my Italian household was anger. Period. Paragraph.

Despite this bizarre anomaly of behavior, I grew up the first 6 years of my life as my dad’s best little buddy – not to mention his only hope of a jock in the family as my brother showed no interest (and still doesn’t) in exercise of any kind. I idolized my dad, and on the day I had a meltdown at preschool, it was my dad I was crying for – not my mom. The day I entered first grade, it all changed. From that time on, like there had been some kind of switch or something, my dad and I no longer hung out. Gone were the days of sitting on his lap at Parault’s (my surrogate grandfather’s) house and taking swigs of ‘Gansett from the long neck on the table – instead, I suddenly was pushed off and out on my own.

In fairness to my dad (who would be 93 as I write this if he were still with us) he had a pretty rough and tumble up bringing. Himself the youngest of three siblings, he had to endure both his father passing away then his mother re-marrying AND passing away by the time he was a teen – which by the way was just in time for the start of the great depression. Dear old dad had no idea what it was to be a father, except to do his best to provide for us. He gave us a house to live in, food on the table and clothes on our back. He busted his hump to provide private school educations for his three children (on the princely sum of $10,000 per annum mind you), and he made sure we all went to college. Oh, and he bought me lots of Puff Pies. Unfortunately, I looked like a walking Puff Pie for several years because of that.  Dad passed away six months after his youngest child (me) was finally married on his 45th wedding anniversary. His job was done. That is the way dad was.

Unfortunately for his seven year old son, it didn’t make sense that all of a sudden we weren’t buddies anymore. So from that point on until I was 22, there was discontent and especially in my teens, all out war. And while we worked out an understanding after that, my dad and I were never buddy buddy again. Sure, I loved and respected him (even more so now looking at what he did) but we never had that buddy relationship again. No real affection and warmth, just more a genteel respect.

I know the back story is long, but i wanted you to have perspective as we now Fast forward to 10/20/09 at 11:19 pm as I hold my first born son in my arms and my thought is… What do I do now? Because holding this little boy, I have no idea, no model. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to smother this little bundle with kisses like I did his sisters. I mean, is it ok to kiss a little boy? I mean, he’s a boy.

Don’t get me wrong here. Lord knows I’m a high maintenance metrosexual enough as it is with my background, so it’s not just because I’m some roughneck on an oil rig retired from 20 years as a drill sergeant that I’m asking this, it’s because I have no idea how I’m allowed to express all my love and affection to this little boy. With the girls it was easy. Until I’m too old to hold them in a father’s embrace, I know I can always hug and kiss them. But, a boy?

Sure, as a baby it’s not really an issue, but what about when he’s three or four or (my gosh) *fourteen* what am I going to do? Well, to tell you the truth, I know exactly what I’m going to do.

At 49 I’m embarking on the final stage of an amazing parenting journey – learning how to get through all the remainingemotions from a less than affectionate childhood to become the example for my son that I never had. I’m going to have the incredible opportunity to not only do what my dad did for me – but go beyond that to show him what it’s like to have an affectionate and loving dad. No, I’m not going to kiss him on the lips (just as a note, the only lips I kiss belong to my bride), but I am going to kiss him and I am going to hug him. Someday – just because he’s a boy – I’m sure he’s not going to want dad kissing him and on that day I’ll reserve for him a fathers loving embrace. An embrace, a handshake, the clasping of the arms, the arm around his shoulder that tells my son that he’s loved, he’s respected and I’m proud of what he has become.

So, I guess there won’t be much of a question of affection, unless it’s how much he can take before he says Dad! No Mas!