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My dear son,

I’m writing this to you on your second birthday. Yes, you’re two whole years old. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve gone from a little, squishy faced cherub to a long legged toddler, demanding toast and cereal and episodes of Blaze and the Monster Machines.

God, you’re obsessed with that programme. I’m dreaming about it, it’s on so often!

This morning, before I left for work, you broke the television. You didn’t smash it over on the floor or chuck it out the window, rock-star-style, but you pressed the on/off button so many times that the old set simply gave up the ghost, made a fizzing sound and popped loudly, scaring the bejesus out of us all. Then there was the unmistakable smell of burning plastic.

Boys, eh?

You kept handing me different remote controls, saying ‘I fix it, I fix it, Mummy’ in your earnest little voice. I simply couldn’t be angry with you.

adam-park

Because you’re still learning.

You’re learning to talk, learning to sing, learning to kick a ball.

You’ve learned how to hug, smile and giggle.

You’ve even learned how to use an iPad quicker than your Nana. (Athough that wouldn’t be hard.)

But I’m looking forward to how much more you’re going to learn. I hope you discover so much more about your potential and talents. I want you to understand yourself, know that you are your own man – that someday (hopefully not too soon) you will be someone’s husband and someone’s Dad.

That’s the day my heart might break a little but when it happens, it will mean that I’ve taught you how to be a kind-hearted, loving man with integrity and decency – and that someone else will see the way I do, just how amazing and special you are.

I know I probably have a good few more years of broken things in my future with you…for now its the TV, but it might be a broken window or even a broken arm when you’ve climbed one too many trees – but I’m going to see the joy in every moment and remind myself that you won’t be a soft, cuddly little boy for long and I should soak up every minute until you become a huffy, grunting teenager.

And when that day comes, and you get a part-time job….I will hand you the bill for the broken TV.

With interest.

 

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