Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn on the magical detail of parenthood
Last week, inspired by a friend about to become a dad, I suggested a few ways in which my life changed since becoming a parent. I ended up covering the more negative aspects, so this week, as promised, here are some positives.
I’m not going to do this completely chronologically, but I will start near the beginning. Being a parent makes you even more aware of the miracle of life itself. In a very self-centred way, you realise you’ve somehow produced this. This living, breathing, working, human being.
For someone who’s struggled as a kid with Airfix models and as an adult with IKEA furniture, a baby is ten times more impressive than a Spitfire/set of shelves. Tiny pores on their skin, their fingers perfectly formed. (Yes, yes, I know, non-parents, you’ve no doubt heard all of this before. But it is different, it really is, when they’re your child’s.)
“Watching their face when they eat a kiwi fruit, see a pig at a farm, have a hat put on them”
I also love the way babies piston their arms and legs with feverish enjoyment; that when they stretch their arms above their head, due to their proportions their hands are level with the top of their head; plus their distinctive weight distribution, which I’ve described in this column as like lifting a grapefruit (the head) attached to a paperclip (the body).
Then there are all the simple firsts: their first smile, when they learn to clap, become intrigued by their own opposable thumbs. When they discover waving, say their first words. Watching their face at pivotal moments – when they eat a kiwi fruit, see a pig at a farm, have a hat put on them.
These are the universal moments, but there’s also discovering the specific too. Every child has them, their quirks, and they become lovable because they are their quirks. The fact that The Boy must always open the microwave, is obsessed by the sizes of boats, and marks out time in terms of ‘Charlie and Lolas’ (ten-minute intervals). The way Youngest™ loves a blue teapot and any songs written by George Harrison.
I also love relish the way Youngest™ always looks perpetually surprised, and how The Boy memorises exact lines in books: “Aerobatics have always proved very popular,” he’ll tell me, seriously.
You feel the biggest pride when seeing them do something new, and coping, like nervously following instructions in a school play or making new friends. You get to witness all the contradictions of growing up. Where they’re blasé about Star Wars but get excited about the alphabet, or follow karate kicks with reciting “Incy Wincey Spider”.
I can tell I’ve gone off track again. In summary, yes, there’s a key evolutionary reason in having kids (your own, selfish genes replicated) but the day-to-day positives are all in the details.
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