Baby Blues

We have moved our four month old, third son, from his crib by the side of our bed into his own full size cot in his own room. He looks a bit lost in all that space and the crib beside my bed is forlornly empty. He sleeps all the night through now, pretty much, and it is nice to sleep undisturbed again: Only I don't. I still wake up because I miss his little presence, his regular whisper of breath. I miss sitting with him in the middle of the night, just him and me. I miss having a baby because I probably never will again.

He seems in a rush to do everything. He is trying to crawl, seemingly to stand up and talk even. When he sits on my knee whilst I play games with his three and four year old brothers he jumps up and down waving his arms, trying to join in the action.

"Be patient, my son, there is plenty time to be grown up. Enjoy your childhood, if not for your own sake, for mine because I love being your father and that gift has a shelf life. Sure, I will always be your father, but you will not always smile at me in that totally absorbing way that you do now and I will not always be the first person you call out for in the middle of the night. Then, you'll be a man, my son, and I'll be proud of you but I will always miss our chats in the middle of the night."

Still, when he is playing in the back row for England I will get guaranteed tickets...