Nearly Yearly

This Sunday will mark my sons first year of existence, which comes as a shock to myself and Claire. We were looking through pictures the other day, and spotted a few recent ones that shockingly make him look like a boy as opposed to a baby.

The usual ‘Has it really been a year?’ or ‘Look how he’s grown!’ have already been discussed, so we can get those done and dusted. As I look at my son, currently standing on the coffee table, I think back to some things that, while they might sound insignificant, were key ‘things’ to remember to us about or sons babyhood.

– The way he’d lift his head up, eyes closed, then let it drop again, looking like a turtle.
– The point in time where him standing while leaning on something for support make him go mental with joy.
– Pooing up his back with a force that could have been measured in megatons, especially when sat in his bumbo.
– His first food (sweet potato) and the fact we hovered around him, ready to apply the heimlich maneuver at a moments notice.
– Crowded around him with my parents, egging him on to roll over, celebrating when he did, then hurriedly rolling him back because he got stuck on his front, like some sort of bizarro beetle.
– Telling Claire to not contact me when he first crawls, because I wanted the surprise when I got in from work.
– Realising that now he was crawling, nothing was safe.
– Realising that all preparation for crawling was pointless when he began to walk.

Last weekend, Ned picked up a book, walked over to my dad, and placed it on his lap, looking at him expectantly. My dad then popped him on his lap and read him a story. I don’t know how much he took in, or even if he enjoyed it (the story had very little direction and the characters had little or no development, to be honest), but watching the whole thing took my breath away – it wasn’t long ago my dad was cupping him in his hands as he snored through the day, completely oblivios to even the concept of books.

And here he is now, my son, forcing his Grampy to read a book.

Pride is not a strong enough word sometimes.

 

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