Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn enters a period of firsts – and lasts
Last week, the New Baby™ visited a castle for the first time. We were allowed to go too, as parents, and so was The Boy but the big significance was it being another first for the small one.
New Baby’s two reactions to Lewes castle were sleepiness and wide-eyed surprise (a traditional set.) Significant moments spent spark out, then waking into wide-eyed amazement. He could barely take his eyes off the motte and bailey layout. “I know,” I agreed. “Most castles just have the one motte.” (As I get older, I become more like Alan Partridge. “You‘re wasting your life, you could be visiting a fort!” etc.) Later, New Baby used the same non-blinking stare on both a fire exit sign and a Kirk Douglas film, so it’s not just reserved for places of architectural interest.
“There are firsts for us parents too – you’ve got your own awkward steps to make”
I’ve written before that you must be really young when bodily functions like sneezing and hiccupping are still a novelty. He’s had other fairly commonplace ‘firsts’ – being in a café, having a bath, listening to the Beatles (not all at the same time).
When you‘re three months old, the firsts come thick and fast. The Boy is also going through a period of major firsts. Learning to swim, going to school, dealing with having a baby brother, plus the significant discovery that there’s a limit to how much lego can come in the front door and us still being able to move.
There are firsts for us parents too. Just as you witness your toddler taking their first clumsy steps, so you’ve got your own awkward steps to make. The first time you call NHS Direct, the first time they’ve disappeared out of sight in a playground, the first time you send them into school with tinned peaches for Harvest Festival.
I see these firsts as opening brackets. (You’ll notice I’m a fan of brackets). Like a scientific equation, they therefore must be paired with the ‘lasts’, the closing brackets. I’m probably closer to these, and many of mine may have happened already. Some are deliberate, like eating mussels (that was a one-off). Others you may be unaware of. Visit Venice (I hope not, but who knows). Even now, in my late thirties, I sometimes think ‘Is that the last time I…’ and it’s a depressing thought. I imagine, older, these ‘lasts’ get more and more mundane, and you wonder whether you’re experiencing the closing brackets of going to the theatre, getting tickled, seeing autumn. Eating cheese.
Maybe this column has given me my own final words. Rather than ‘Bugger Bognor’ or ‘They couldn’t shoot an elephant from that dist…’ – instead it will simply be: Close brackets.
