But you can't

We were at the fountain - and now in these last hot autumn days, my sunshine boy has discovered a love of being wet and wild and crazy.  All summer long, he would sit and swelter - while the other little ones splashed and played - but now he's the first one under that frigid spray... racing around and around in his faded swim trunks - blue eyes laughing as he comes wet and dripping to his mama. 
This day, he left his shoes where they landed mid step - his inside out shirt was dropped so near someone else's belongings that we almost lost it.  Before i had settled myself - face turned up to sunshine, he was laughing and running 'round. 
All of a sudden, tiny crooked foot landed funny - and he slipped on that wet concrete - and he did a belly flop on that hardest of hard ground.  With finely tuned instincts, my son picked himself up - his mouth already formed in a perfect howl - and he ran to me.  i reached for him, arms outstretched to hold his sadness - to examine him from head to toe - to smooch his face and soothe his wounded pride. 
When he was an arms length from me, he stopped though.  He stopped and said, "B- b- b- but you CANNNN'T!" 
"What do you mean, i can't, Darling?" i asked, reaching - pulling myself up to go to him... but he held himself away. 
"You can't hold me 'cause i wet!"
With one swoop i grabbed him - his heaving dripping shoulders dampening my still dry clothes.  i felt the water roll down my throat as his spiky white hair dripped on my chin - and he choked back his sobs as i wrapped my arms around his tiny wet form clinging to me in relief. 
o  tiny one... i can.  i can hold you - i can dry you... i can comfort you.  Your state matters little to me... because you. are. mine. 
And with just the tiniest catch in my throat, i turn to my waiting Father... dripping wet... disheveled, dirty, broken, messy... and find myself asking, "Can you?"