Normally a father looks forward to the birth of a son as a way of re-engaging with his quickly vanishing youth. All those things from the past that were quite likely rather dangerous and at the time terrifying, mellow with age, and gain an air of respectability. The birth of a son gives you the opportunity to revisit them, by proxy, with the major difference that you get to pay for all the broken bits.
And so I looked upon the birth of my son all those many years ago with excitement, not knowing what lay ahead. In the muddle of excitement it all looked really good, how much damage could we cause after-all ...
On his first day home the signs were there, unlike the easy-care daughter we had already, this one refused to lie still. Essentially it was a perpetually wriggling shitting machine, the bonus wriggling ensured that the normal containment measures were inadequate.
Little did I know that this would represent the high-point in his capabilities.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
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