#27 Teenage Kicks

Last week my little boy (I really must stop calling him that!) became a teenager, and in the words of his Aunty C, it doesn’t seem so long ago that he was a baby and she was pulling an apricot out of his bum! (That’s a whole other story). Whilst wrapping his presents on Monday night (last minute.com as ever!), I cried; yes I cried … like a baby, because my baby is no more! H – I miss the baby days, the cuddles I didn’t have to ask for, rocking you to sleep in my arms, the smell of Johnson’s baby bath, Sudocrem and talcum powder, and I miss bath times, and pushing your pram in the park. But I don’t miss the sleepless nights, colic, or trips to A&E with asthma/whooping cough! I miss the toddler times, watching Bob the Builder & Thomas The Tank engine, playing with trains and cars, Play-dough and bubbles. But I don’t miss the mess, or the 4.45 am wake-ups! We taught you to tell the time at age 3 in the hope you would stay asleep until 6 or 7am but that didn’t work, neither did putting your clock back or keeping you up late. For almost 2 years you woke at 4.45am EVERY DAY! It’s a good job we love you!

But now we are on a new journey, we can chat to one another in whole sentences, go for walks and meals together, and when Niffa and I can disconnect you from things electronic, you are great company and an interesting young man. You can be quite the philosopher, with questions ranging from the deep and thoughtful, to the frankly ridiculous but never boring. I love our random chats about what we would do in the event of a zombie apocalypse (I would steal a super yacht, you would climb a mountain), to what would happen if there was no such thing as friction and / or gravity.

H you have (rather suddenly it seems) become a man-child.  You have shot up in height (and attitude) in the last few weeks, and sometimes smell less fragrant than you used to, despite constant reminders of deodorant and showers (and the present of matching shower gel and aftershave from one of mummy’s friends). You alternate between being my sunny, smiley boy and a grumbly, growly, prickly teenager but least you haven’t quite started grunting at us … yet.


You are an unfathomable dichotomy – most days I can’t get you in the shower, and when I do, I can’t get you out of the shower.  You refuse to go to the barber without threats/bribery/a combination of the two – yet when you eventually have a new haircut, you sneak hair gel into your school bag and spend more time than me, preening in the mirror.  You want your independence and to make your own decisions, but you still hold my hand when your friends aren’t around, and we still have loads of cuddles. You are a gangly, jangly bundle of raging hormones, wrapped up in a handsome, funny, smart, kind and polite young man.  You drive us crazy, in good ways and bad, you sulk and occasionally slam doors but are quick to calm down, say sorry and make up. But these years will sometimes be tough, hormones are flying around, and little things might often seem like big things, but I just want you to know that daddy Niffa and I love you very much, and we are super proud of you, every single day.


PS I Just had to share a few more photos, some old, some new xxx



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