Well what can I say about last weekend?
Well it was alright, you know.
That 1963 Jaguar Mk II was amazing.
This week, there was more exciting news in our house… wait for it kids, B seems to have some slight predisposition towards sports!!
During our adoption interviews I joked (perhaps once too often) that one of the benefits of the adoption process was me getting a child who wasn’t weighed down by my genes. My genes are a lot of things, hairy for example, but being bestowed with sporting ability is not one of them.
Within seconds of receiving the news from preschool I researched professional level cricket equipment, together with the wise words of cricket’s greatest, Sir [it’s only a matter of time] Michael Atherton. What more does any three year old want than to spend Boxing Day having hard plastic balls fired at him at 86mph, whilst his old man regales him with tales of Darren Gough’s inswinger? That’s right, NOTHING more.
For legal reasons, I am only able to confirm that B will not be getting a bowling machine for Christmas. Unfortunately the agreement I’ve reached with Mrs DB contains draconian confidentiality restrictions and precludes me from making any further comment. To summarise, I’d like it to be known by all that I AM MOST CERTAINLY IN THE WRONG.
I never really considered that I would have a son and that I could live out all my frustrated sporting triumphs through him. I can already feel the pride bubbling up of watching him step out on the hallowed turf of Lords to make his Test Match debut.
All joking aside I’m determined that he should be encouraged to do what he enjoys in life, not what I want him to enjoy, so long as he remains safe. I promise to try my best not to put too much pressure on him. Scouts honour.
I’ve also realised that I am already immensely proud of B for much more important reasons. This week, he went to see Nanny DB as usual. It’s become part of the routine to knock on the door of her neighbours Pat and Bill to say hello. Pat gave him 50p for his pocket money and joked that Bill, still sitting in his arm chair surrounded by his zimmer frame, didn’t have a lot of money in his own money box. Unprompted, B went over to Bill and gave him the money for his money box. That’s my kind of guy.
As I left for work one morning this week I joked that I had to look after my boss that day as he had a big presentation to do. Again, without prompting, B got his favourite dinosaur and told me to take it for my boss to borrow for the day to help him through.
I know all parents go gooey over their kids but give me some slack as I’m new to this. No matter what my little man becomes, you can’t teach those skills and I can’t believe that despite his tough start in life he treats others like this.
I can learn a lot from this man and I intend to do so.
…We’re off down the rugby club on Saturday to see if he can get a game.