We don't do a lot of hand holding these days. Maybe that's why those five fingers slipping inside my own and taking hold very nearly knocked the breath from my body.

Six-year-olds don't understand social distancing, at least not the way adults can (or should, anyway). They still crave the comfort of a larger paw enveloping their own.

I didn't realize how much I craved it too, as a mom with a teenager, as a mom in a pandemic.

But suddenly there it was, five little fingers soft and warm like your favorite blanket, palm resting right against my own.

Instinctively, I squeezed back, thumb tightening and holding the little hand in place.

We'd just finished his family photo shoot, and he wanted me to stay for the morning. Couldn't I just use his computer to edit my photos? He uses it for school, you know. Couldn't I just spend a few more minutes, a few more hours, there?

I wished I could have stayed and held that hand just a little bit longer, wished I could have talked about t-rexes and been schooled on how to properly throw a basketball into a driveway hoop, on how to pet puppies and all the other important lessons 6-year-olds have to impart to those of us who've grown too old to remember them.

It's nice to feel a little hand in yours, to listen to little voices. For those of us with children who've outgrown the hand-holding stage, it's a nice little reminder that we can still be heroes…even if it's just for a few minutes or a few hours.