I took my son to the movies today for a birthday party. He'd never seen a movie in a theater before. We had a whole row to ourselves. 

In front of us were his friends from school and their moms. He watched them bounce on their seats as they enjoyed their popcorn and juice and things made from balloons. "You can go play with your friends," I told him.

He stood up in the aisle, smiled and laughed at them, and turned back to me. I nodded: "Go ahead." He sat back down in his aisle seat and swung his legs, giggling as he plunged his hand back into his popcorn. 

He extended his tiny arm around me. I leaned over and squeezed him with my right arm. "Daddy, I wove you." 

The lights dimmed a couple of minutes later, and we watched the movie about a fish who was scared to let his son swim out into the ocean by himself.

One day, I'm sure, my son will not need or want me by his side at the movies, but I don't have to think about that day just yet.