I’m sentimental. When I was in high school, I started a memory box where I kept every greeting card, ticket stub, picture, button, pebble, and used Kleenex for four years. I lugged a rock the size of my head home from a trip to the Badlands. I kept a pathetic clay whistle I made in art class—it was in the shape of the Grim Reaper; not everyone likes high school.

I’d come a long way in being more discerning with my nostalgia, but I’ve back-slid since becoming a father. At work, I have Ian’s first drawing, a paper plate with his handprint, a paper mitten he made in school, a painting of me he made in school, my first Father’s Day card, and a foam picture frame he made with Grammie. Not to mention all the pictures. And drawings from friends’ kids.

Where is the line between sentimentality and OCD?

One day last week, Ian made two drawings before I left for work. This is no great feat: Ian’s a minimalist. A few lines and circles on one legal-size piece of paper, and he moves on. Yet he takes these drawings very seriously.

‘Here, Daddy! You can take these to work!’ He held them out to me, a line drawn on one, and a slightly longer line on the other.

‘Wow, thanks! But I don’t have room for those at work.’ I really don’t. This year’s change in jobs also moved me from an office to a cubicle.

‘Yes, you do! Here, I’ll put this,’ he shook one of the drawings, ‘next to your bag. So you don’t forget.’ And he did. He walked to the living room, found my bag, and carefully covered it with the paper.

I was touched! How thoughtful! How tender! How…. Can I be honest, here? I love that Ian draws pictures for me. I love that he’s thoughtful, and I’m glad he knows how much I think about him while I’m gone. But he does this a lot. And the drawings aren’t always, you know…good. Not that I’m asking for Picasso, but I can tell when he’s drawing and when he’s simply passing the time. My desk no longer has room for ‘passing the time’.

So I hugged him and kissed him, and when his back was turned I put the drawing on the living room table where he wouldn’t find it.