I took my 6-year-old son to Riverbend this year.

For 15 straight years, I covered the festival start-to-finish as a reporter. The festival lost most of its romance for me. While others were having fun, I was always racing to make deadline.

I wanted my son to help me see Riverbend through fresh eyes, and I thought family night on Tuesday would be a good way to introduce him to the action.

I asked him on the shuttle-bus ride to Ross’s Landing what he imagined Riverbend would be like.

“I think there will be some people up on a stage singing,” he said. “And I’m thinking there will be trampolines.”

It’s good for my older son and me to break away from the rest of the family for one-on-one time. When we do, I notice that “the boy” is simultaneously getting bigger and smaller. Physically, his arms and legs are growing like cane. But inside, his personality is retreating into the cave of midboyhood.

At Riverbend, I bought him a $10 roll of tokens, and he headed straight for the shaved-ice tent and ordered a blueberry. Within minutes, his mouth looked as if he had been kissing an ink pad, and there was blue liquid rolling off both of his knees.

For a few minutes, we sat on the riverbank and watched the boats go by.

“I think we have a pretty good city,” I said. “What do you like best about Chattanooga?”

It took him so long to answer, I almost forgot I had asked a question. "My mommy, my daddy and my brother," he said sweetly. "That's what I like about this city. Can I have a Popsicle?"

Nice, I thought. Groveling is often underrated life skill.

Next, he played a carnival game trying to win a stuffed animal. He lost, but that was OK. He rationed his tokens in a way that lets me know he is learning about money. He thought $4 for Ferris wheel ride was exorbitant, so he passed.

When the music started, I walked him over in front of the stage to hear a band called Tabernacle, complete with hot horn section and an energetic bass player.

I’m sorry, but I felt moved by the spirit to dance. As my hips shifted into high gear, I felt a bear hug around my waist.

“Stop!” the boy demanded. “Don’t do that.”

I was stunned. The boy blushed with embarrassment. From the look on his face, he clearly wasn’t sure at that moment if Dad was an asset or a liability.

I could feel my heart sink. I always knew the time would come, but I wasn’t ready.

Later, as the sun dropped below the horizon, we started walking back to the bus stop. The crowed was swelling and pressing in. As we weaved through the throng, I felt a warm, sticky little hand reach out and lock onto mine.

“Now, that’s more like it,” I thought.

And I’m pretty sure that I smiled.