Number one son turned six today. This is staggering on several levels. Not least of which is the fact that we have had him for 6 years and haven't broken him yet!
I can remember the events 6 years ago so vividly. We arrived home with this precious bundle, completely unaware of just how much our life would change. We knew it would a bit but were stupidly ignorant of the upside-downess that our existence would take on.
I remember my husband walking him round the house, introducing him to his new home and then settling down for the first of what would turn out to be many boys' sessions in front of the TV.
The thing I probably remember most vividly was the way his hands and feet just seemed to be too big for the rest of his scrawny frame. His hands just hung in front of him, as if he had no idea what he was supposed to do with them. I suppose we knew then that he would be big, working on the puppy with big paws principle, but I don't think we took as much heed as we could have done. His current size and build follow on from those big paws....
He and number two are, quite simply, the most amazing, lovely, loving, frustrating, astonishing, funny, exasperating, entertaining and not to mention hungry beings that we've ever come across. It sounds like a long time but it's flown by and I can't believe that the baby I held for the first time six years ago is now a young man with likes, dislikes, a witty voice and more than enough idea of the myriad possibilities of being six (and, apparently, accordingly bigger).
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