As a kid I can remember my dad of a Saturday evening getting out the box of black paste polish and a soft cloth and shining his black shoes to a high gleam for church the next day. Spit was involved.
Yesterday evening, I rushed out of the house with our boy in tow for church service, and as we were walking toward the building he looked at me.
Ma, you've got food on your face.
And he stuck his finger in his mouth and began spit cleaning the barbeque sauce I had dribbled on my chin and neck.
How many times did I stick my finger in my mouth and clean grime off my child's face because suddenly we were in public and I had forgotten to wash his face earlier (or, more likely, he had gotten dirty in the meantime)? If I did it once I did it a thousand times.
I know that the roles eventually get reversed. "The child becomes the father of the man..." but I didn't think it was going to come quite so soon.
At any rate, he got me all polished up so I didn't embarrass myself.