She doesn’t do that. The second you put a two-year-old down they’re gone. But we got to Tiffany Falls and the ground changed, roots, rocks, uneven everything and she reached for my finger without me asking.

I didn’t want to let go. I also knew I had to. I guess that’s the whole thing with a kid let alone a daugher. I’ve never had a sister or grew up with girls aside from cousins that would visit. This is new territory for me and I am completely gone for this kid. I joke that she’s not allowed to get married, that she’s staying in my pocket forever. But watching her on that trail, stopping at the bridge to feel the echo, leaning into the current of the creek, figuring out how to balance herself on ground that wasn’t flat for the first time in her life, I’m reminded my job wasn’t to hold her. It was to stay close enough that she felt safe enough to go.

She’d push forward, get scared, run back and hug me. I pushed her forward, she would get scared, come back. A couple times she nearly slipped and I grabbed her, and when I went to let go she pulled my arms back to wrap around her.

I let her. Every time. And every time I opened my hands again.

She’s two. She’s seeing the world for the first time and I have a front row seat to all of it. The rock she picked up. The way she stared at the waterfall like she’d landed on another planet. The fact that she spent more time throwing rocks into the water than actually looking at the falls, which is always interesting. Like giving a baby a toy and seeing them more interested in the box.

I’ve been carrying a lot lately. The stuff that keeps dads up at night. But standing next to that water, listening to nothing but the creek and her footsteps, I was calm. Completely calm.

I know the clock is running. I remember being a teenager. I remember not wanting to be around my parents and at times, even hating them. That day is coming and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me. I love these kids more than I know how to say. So I take the hikes. I show up. I keep my arm arounds her until she’s ready to go, then I open my hands.

On the way back she didn’t want to leave, neither did I. I’m going to do this more with her and see what happens.

Tiffany Falls, Ancaster. Free to walk in, $11 to park. Wear shoes you don’t mind getting wet.

This is going to sound a little weird, so hear me out. Take a Saturday morning and go hit a couple garage sales.

I grew up doing this with my mom. To this day, if I pass a sale and there's cash in the car, I'm pulling over. You never know what's on the table. Something we actually need for the house at a fraction of new. A box of old movies or CDs. A toy I forgot I loved. Years ago I found a Nintendo, in the box, for fifty bucks. I still think about that one.

For the kids it's a different math. A toy they fall for is, what, a dollar? Better that than a brand-new thing collecting dust by Wednesday. And half the fun is walking in with no clue what you're walking out with. Once in a while you grab something worth way more than the sticker, and you just nod and keep walking.

So I built a page that maps the week's garage sales around Hamilton, so you can plan a route instead of chasing cardboard signs on hydro poles. Might be worth a look this weekend.

The week's garage sales → https://dadsjustwannahavefun.com/garage-sales