Today, my son is wearing an open denim shirt, over a striped t-shirt. He is also wearing brown trousers, and his brown shoes are hiding his striped socks. His hair is typical for him: a sort of Mohawk turned into a side parting (what most adults would call a ‘receding hair’ line is instead just ‘areas on his head not filled in yet with hair’ – the downside of not yet being finished with growning enough hair is that it looks like Ned has a flat Mohican down the centre of his head, which is then swept to one side. Hence the ‘side parting Mohawk’)
This description of attire and look may sound pointless – or even like an episode of crimewatch – but to me, it has far greater depth than that. Let me push further with this – Claire sent me a picture of him the other day, with the text ‘Look at our little BOY’
I looked at him – I think he was midway through climbing something inevitably dangerous (but that’s not relevant to the story) – and Jesus, she was right. That was an actual little BOY in the picture, not a ‘Baby’.
I sat back and thought about our son, and what he was like nowadays:
– Ned runs everywhere. The possibility of taking your time, or pacing yourself has been lost on my son. He stomps from corner to corner of the house, ensuring that he’s seen every inch of the place before repeating the process. Ned stops for no man, and all in his path is brushed aside by his thick little forearms (or picked up if dangerous)
– Ned talks all the time. Granted, it’s generally nothing useful, or helpful (‘Daddy, watch out, you’re about to step on one of my toys barefooted’ or ‘Daddy I’ve done a stealth poo in my nappy, can you change me before we go out for the day?’ would be examples of helpful speech) but he talks, regardless. Generally it’ll be ‘DADADADADADADA’ until he sees Claire and changes to ‘MAMAMAMAMAMA’. Sometimes he’ll surprise us and throw out a ‘BABABABABA’ – just to mix it up. Ned also says Dog, Ball and Clock – though ‘Clock’ sounds like something else because he’s having trouble with ‘L’ sounds.
– He has party tricks. He’ll copy people putting their thumb in their mouth and pulling it out to make a pop sound. If you ask for a kiss and pucker up, he’ll kiss you (as discussed in an earlier post). Yesterday, he moved the foot stool over next to the sofa, and used it as a step to get to me
– He’s a full time eater. Bolognese, Curry, Chilli, Chicken, Sandwiches, Vegetables and Fruit are all Neds current food groups. Sometimes he’s spoon fed, other times he’s shoving fistfulls of food into his pie hole. We mix it up, keep him interested. He’s also now drinking Cows milk when Claire’s at work, giving us one less thing to worry about.
So, as I look at our son, busy climbing the stairs while his mum picks him off them for the fifth time in the last three minutes, I think about the little ‘Baby’, who used to fit in my hands, and only went to sleep if I pushed him back and forth in a walker, and then I see the little ‘Boy’ he’s turning into, and my heart sings, because it means we’re doing something right.