Page 60 of Hiss and Tell
After the ceremony, as families mingle and take photos, Derek approaches Milo with his wrapped gift.
“This is for you, graduation boy. Something to help you remember how proud your old dad is today.”
Milo unwraps it carefully to reveal a beautiful hardcover book about dinosaurs—not the flashy, expensive kind Derek used to bring, but a thoughtful choice that shows he’s been paying attention to his son’s interests.
“Thank you, Daddy! Can you read it to me sometime?”
“I’d love to,” Derek says, and his voice is thick with emotion. “Maybe this weekend, if Mama says it’s okay.”
The easy way he defers to Aspen’s judgment, the genuine interest in spending time reading rather than just playing with toys—everything about Derek’s behavior suggests real change, not just performance.
“Of course it’s okay,” Aspen says warmly. “Milo loves being read to.”
As families begin to leave, heading home for naps and celebrations, Derek lingers awkwardly near the exit.
“I know you probably have plans for the rest of the day,” he says to Aspen. “I don’t want to intrude, but I was wondering… would it be okay if I took Milo for ice cream? Just for an hour or so? I promise to have him back by naptime.”
The request is respectful, timely, and focused on what Milo would enjoy rather than what Derek wants. Through our bond, I feel Aspen’s surprise and cautious optimism.
“What do you think, Bug?” she asks Milo. “Ice cream with Daddy?”
“Can Mama and Poppa Sebastian come too?” Milo asks immediately. “Like a family ice cream party?”
Derek’s face goes through several expressions—surprise, consideration, and then something that might be relief. “That sounds great, if everyone wants to.”
An hour later, we’re sitting around a picnic table at Scoops & Smiles, watching Milo work his way through a cone of rainbowsherbet while Derek tells him stories about his own preschool graduation. The conversation flows more easily than I would have imagined, focused on Milo’s happiness rather than adult tensions.
“Remember when you were little,” Derek asks Milo, “and you used to line up all your toy dinosaurs before bed?”
“I still do that!” Milo giggles. “But now Poppa Sebastian helps me make up stories about where they’re going on adventures.”
“That’s cool. Maybe you could tell me some of those stories sometime?”
“I could! There’s this one about a T-Rex who learns to be gentle, and another about a triceratops who makes friends with a bird…”
As Milo launches into an elaborate dinosaur tale, Derek listens with genuine attention, asking questions and responding to plot twists with appropriate amazement. This is what being present looks like—not grand gestures or expensive gifts, but focused attention and authentic interest in a child’s inner world.
When it’s time to head home, Derek hugs Milo goodbye and thanks both Aspen and me for including him.
“This was really nice,” he says awkwardly. “I hope… I mean, if there are other things like this, other family stuff, I’d like to be included. If that’s okay.”
“Derek,” Aspen says gently, “you’re Milo’s father. When you show up consistently and keep your promises, you’ll always be welcome.”
“I’m working on that. The showing up part. The keeping promises part.” He looks directly at me. “Sebastian, I want you to know—I’m not trying to compete with you or take your place. I can see how much Milo loves you, how secure you make him feel. I just want to find my own place in his life.”
“There’s room for both of us,” I tell him honestly. “Milo’s got a big heart. The more people who love him reliably, the stronger he becomes.”
On the drive home, Milo falls asleep in his car seat, exhausted from excitement and sugar. Through our bond, I feel Aspen’s quiet amazement at how the day unfolded.
“He’s really trying,” she murmurs.
“He is. And if he keeps it up…”
“Milo gets to have two dads who both show up for him.”
The thought fills me with unexpected hope. Not because I need Derek’s approval or friendship, but because Milo deserves every possible source of love and stability. The more adults who can be counted on to keep their promises, the more secure he becomes.
That evening, as we’re getting ready for our graduation celebration dinner, my phone buzzes with a text from Thaddeus:On my way. Hope you made enough food for someone whohasn’t eaten since breakfast. Sloane’s bringing dessert and says she’s excited to hear about the ceremony.
