Just Sneaking This One In..

This is the post I wasn't supposed to write. "Don't get all sentimental, Mum,"  he said. "It's just a birthday." But so many of you kindly stopped by to wish him all the best, I can't help myself. Thank you. One comment especially got me musing. The very wise and thoughtful Jennie wrote

"It tool us ages to get to eighteen, didn't it, and they do it in a flash!"

and I'd like to thank her for it. It says everything I'd been thinking. Perfectly. 

I wasn't supposed to post pictures either. But when I looked through the ones I'd taken as he got ready for the Valentines Day Formal, I fell for this one. Those two men..

On Valentines Day eighteen years ago, I went for an ante-natal appointment. "Your blood pressure's up," they said. "Come in and you can have your baby."

"Nooo chance," I said. "It's Valentine's night and my husband has promised to cook. which only happens once every other year and even then only if  Valentines is on a Tuesday."  And they laughed and shrugged their shoulders, promised to keep an eye on me and let me go home.

When he did eventually arrive, he was born looking like a baby bird and he opened his mouth and squawked for food and then he started to grow. The presents surprised us: from his Grandpa's parishioners; from friends of the newly named Uncle Dave (they took up a collection in his Halls of Residence and sent a Peter Rabbit); from all over. I've kept every last card.

We named him after his Father and his Grandpa and his Great Grandpa; and the second of these baptised him himself, on Palm Sunday, in a last loving act. He died before the year was out, so some of the rest of the first few months are a blur. But there was still a First Birthday party, with two Grannies; and, as the years stacked up, the celebrations kept coming: McDonalds with pre-school friends and a big pile of Happy Meals, bowling, the cinema - where his new friend knocked over a huge display of sweets in the lobby and we didn't know whether to laugh or run.

That same friend was first onto Facebook to wish him all the best this year; and he'll celebrate his own eighteenth in a week. They've grown up together and they have turned into fine young men. Our lad looks like his Dad, but maybe thinks a little more like his Mum. He has an enquiring historical mind and a taste for debate; and when he stands up to speak, he's fast and funny, with an open decency I admire (that comes from his Dad, too).  He was an angry toddler - his words, not mine - today he's calm, charming. Sorted. He's ready to move on and we're getting ready to let him go..

..and that brings me back to Jennie and her message. They do it in a flash. And I'd do it all over again if I could. Best of luck, big man. Whatever the next year brings, we're right behind you.