Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn has a new addition to the family
The biggest news in The Boy’s life this week? It’s a score draw between his new school having Play-Doh, or the fact that he’s had a number of emergency sleepovers at his Nanny and Granddad’s. He hardly mentions the fact that he’s got a new baby brother.
Last week’s column was left on the cliffhanger of my wife going into labour. (Not written at that precise moment, I should stress.) Yes, we have a beautiful baby boy, after a sudden, traumatic, heart-stopping night, in which the sense of relief – intense, crumbling relief – when my wife and the new baby came through it all was huge. Just as it wasn’t the smoothest of pregnancies, so nothing happened as expected on the final section, but I won’t write about that here. (Maybe, one day, for The Lancet, or perhaps Horror Tales Monthly. I‘ll try and get them in a bidding war).
“Yes, we have a beautiful baby boy, after a sudden, traumatic, heart-stopping night”
Instead, let’s look at The Boy’s take on his new brother. I asked him to explain to his new brother what the best thing about being alive was. “Attacking the bad guys to make sure they’re not alive.” It wasn’t the answer I’d expected. It’s hardly a pacifist stance, but noble in a kind of High Noon sort of a way. I rephrased the question. “Tell the baby what the best things in life are.” The Boy leans forward gently. “Little Lego,” he says. “But don’t try to eat it.” Good advice. Our emphasis on safety is obviously hitting home. In fact, The Boy’s previous offer early on in the pregnancy – “I’ll make sure The Baby doesn’t escape into the garden while you sleep on the sofa” – makes us sound like parents from The Jeremy Kyle Show.
The Boy is adapting well, but it must be hard, as the arrival of this Bundle of Joy/Usurper has coincided with his first few weeks of starting school. Often the two big events get mixed up, like when I tell him that The Baby is trying to look at him, and The Boy answers: “At school, they have a snail as big as a grown-up’s hand. They keep it in a see-through place.”
We are very proud of how he’s got on at school, but he rarely answers any questions about what he’s done when he first comes out. Instead, details get spouted later in the evening. It’s the same when he talks about The Baby; he’s so bored with answering questions, he often ignores them, but then talks later, unprompted. In the middle of his bath, he has his own Eureka moment, saying: “The Baby really likes milk, doesn‘t he?” “He does,” I agree. We both nod, sagely.
