THis is an unashamed Dad post. If the thought of that bores the pants off you, look away no.
If you're still here……..
It's been an interesting week. We've had the 20 week scan if our second child. Words are completely insufficient to describe how this feels so I won't bother. Seeing your unborn child blink is amazing. I can't wait to meet him/her and find out how different he/she is to our loud, joyfully demented little whirlwind of a boy.
In the same week, that same boy was really ill. We had to take him into A&E and, thankfully, he's fine, but holding him tight, as he cried his eyes out with a sky high temperature, looking up at me, wanting me to make it better made me realise what I really love about being a parent.
Don't get me wrong, it's fun. Will's my partner in crime and his mother rolls her eyes at how stupid we both are. But all that pales next to the hard stuff: The nights you're kept awake, putting a smile and engaging in hide and seek at 5am because someone is up and wants to play, no sleep ins for 12 years, those book you've no time to read, those films you never get to see. The copious amounts of baby sick. The tantrums. It's fantastic.
It's partly the feeling of someone needing you, (no one will ever love as completely and without agenda as your small child) but it's also doing something that's hard enough to be worthwhile. In world of easy options, labour saving short cuts and simulated experiences, I bet I'm not the only Dad that feels more alive with his child anywhere else.
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