Tuesday, 12 February 2008

At 3am...

...I hear a two year old voice:

I stumble in bleary eyed to be met with the phrase:


Monday, 4 February 2008

Starting school.

I always used to scoff at parents that get teary at their kids' first day of school. I mean, they'll see them in a few hours, right?
Now I understand. The little baby I watched learn to breathe has now finished his Early Childhood (you know, the make-or-break period that sets them on their path for life) and they're about to be released into a faulty system over which you have no control.

Now imagine how THEY feel, entering an alien world without having developed the social skills to deal with it or articulate it to you.

The first day of school was a carefully engineered anticlimax, where the kids get taken in with no fuss and little chance to say goodbye.

The second day, the bell went and my five-year-old sat down on the line to go in, with the rest of the kids. I began to reassure him, told him I'd see him soon, and he turned to me and said:

"Dad, are you going to go or not?"

Fly, my son.