I always imagined that I’d have a girl. I’d bring her up to be strong-willed and independent. I’d bring her up to question everything and to stand up for what she believes in. I bring her up to never accept second best. I’d dress her in dresses, but not pink ones. She’d love drawing and painting. Having a boy wasn’t really something that I ever thought would happen.
I didn’t find out whether I was having a boy or a girl before he was born. I was a little bit nervous when he first appeared. Would we have anything in common? Would I be enough for him? I feared that he’d be into sports that I know nothing about. I feared he’d be macho and aggressive and that I wouldn’t be able to relate to him. I feared that he’d need more than I can give.
Then of course pretty quickly I fell in love with him. He’s a sensitive and empathetic soul. He says he likes my clothes and my hair. He tells me he loves me bigger than his Spider-Man. He gives me snotty kisses. He makes me pretend cups of tea and he cooks me pretend egg and grapes (more teaching required in the kitchen!)
I feel a tinge of sadness that he is growing up so quickly. But there are times when all boys want is a big cuddle from mummy and it is lovely. He crawls into my bed, usually at around 3am. He has be doing this for so long now that I barely stir, but he is there when I wake in the morning. He snuggles up. He puts his head on my chest and tells me to read my book. He watches me as I read. He giggles.
His imagination is unbridled. He loves Andy’s Pre-historic Adventures on CBeebies. We pretend that he is Andy and I travel with him on his pre-historic adventures. He puts on his gizmo and his back-pack and we jump into a life size grandfather clock that I have drawn on paper and stuck to the wall. In the clock, we travel back in time 225 million years and we collect pumice stone from our pretend volcano before travelling back in the clock to the present.
We sometimes go for breakfast at the French café at the end of the road. He sits opposite me in his Spider-Man costume and I think my heart might burst. I drink my latte, he drinks his hot milk. I know that he is thoroughly spoilt and terribly indulged.
He can be grouchy and wild and maddening. He is the only child to refuse to walk like a spider at gymnastics. He claims that his hands are to small to put his toys away. He has wiped him nose on my curtains. He has sumo wrestled my 9 month old niece. He shouts at me to ‘WAKE UP’ at 5am on a weekend, but always sleeps through our 6.30am alarm during the week. He steals the raisins out of my muesli. He pokes my eyes.
But I find him delightful. He such an exciting individual. I am totally besotted. I am the luckiest mummy in the world.