There are words that I think of, words that invade my mind when I see you, when I think about you or talk about you…Images too..I see the sun because you are my sunshine boy, my smiling boy, and the word is lovely, he is so lovely, just so lovely, god he is lovely…Lovely is not enough, not a big enough word with not enough impact, yet it sums you up so well, everything about you, from your white blonde curls to your gentle blue eyes, to your dirty laugh, to the trembling of your rosebud lips when you are trying desperately not to cry…You were born…a boy, and you looked like one! Wide nose, flared nostrils, deep frown, huge hands balled into fists held up under your chin…what a bruiser they said! What a toughie! He’s gonna’ be trouble! Look at that face! You won’t wanna’ mess with him…You’ll know you’ve got him…In days the frown had gone, the fists relaxed, the face had opened up…You wouldn’t sleep in the pram, instead you lifted your legs and waved them about..same in the moses basket, pointless, you wanted to see what was going on, who was about, but you didn’t cry much, just took it all in…
Your sisters adored you…especially Roobydooby when you could hold and broom a car…a friendship was forged over car mats, within traffic and parking and the strict rules she enforced…You aimed to please…I can see you now, toothy grin and dribbly chin, tight blonde curls, crawling backwards at six months and forwards at seven, pulling yourself up, and crawling straight for the TV every time you heard the Cbeebies recycling song! Made us laugh every time…here it is…here he comes…up you’d go, big blue eyes on the Tv, what drew you to that song, who knows?
You walked at ten months and hated being dressed or changed..that was your only struggle, your only rebellion, twisting and screaming until the last popper was secured…just made us laugh…Toy rocket for your first birthday, Thomas the Tank engine set for your second, and a party at the hall…you spent most of the time hiding in a tunnel, food clasped in one pudgy hand…You didn’t mind anyone touching your stuff, have never been possessive of anything…as soon as you could walk you wanted to walk everywhere, holding my hand, trying and failing to carry your huge Rory the Tiger toy all the way to school and back…you’d keep going, marching on, and I’d always be saying he’s so easy, so lovely, so good, I’m waiting for it to change, I’m waiting for the fights..but they never came. You clung to me at toddler groups, took my hand to where you wanted to play, backed off if confronted by the snarls of other children, wouldn’t ever join in the singing or the actions at circle time, just sat patiently waiting for your drink and biscuit with a frown on your face and your hands in your lap…
You had no fear, and you still don’t, not of things or pain…you’d climb trees, try anything, jump off things and declare that it didn’t matter mummy, we won’t worry mummy…a hole scooped out of mud that kept you quiet for hours one summer day, kneeling in just shorts, your hand digging out more dirt, your body caked in it, your blonde hair hanging in your eyes, your tongue sticking out the corner of your mouth as you concentrated…the day your sisters buried you in another hole and washed your hair in mud…you shrieked with laughter…on car rides home, plastered in dirt and food, smiling behind the muck,, straight up and into the bath…racing down the lane on your balance bike, off and into the stinging nettles, trying not to cry, proud as ever to show anyone your bruises and scrapes, counting them up in the bath at the end of the day…
Third birthday, so many friends, bouncy castle in the garden, toy helicopter and monster cake with straggly hair, you with your pants on your head and your tongue sticking out…you called milk wonk, and cars were bars, you couldn’t say f, so it was dood, not food, dace, not face, dend, not friend..you were scared of the muckoos because they came out at night…you would turn up in our room, Tiger under one arm, or was it Snakey by then? You were scared and you wanted to sleep with us and you always did the same thing, a kiss on the cheek for me and your arms around my neck, and then snoring again, just like that, kicking the covers from us…
Figures were ‘biggers’ and one summer you carried them everywhere, Rory the Tiger and Bradley the bear and you were always dropping them and losing them and we’d have to go back and find them..where are my biggers? Where are my biggers? You did the same with cars, Lightning McQueen and Mater, buried in the gravel! Somehow they always turned up again…with your sister you laid planks of wood across the gravel and pushed cars and trucks all day long…hid your biggers in the sandpit…at night we read you Room On The Broom and The Gruffalo and The Little Red Train..you screamed in laughter at Rattletrap Car…you liked playing shops, counting money, or mums and dads…you always did whatever made everyone else happy, whatever was easiest…train tracks and duplo, cardboard boxes, playdough and baking cakes…anything messy, anything that meant sticking your hands into muck!
The ‘shop’ game on dog walks…certain trees were shops and if you made it to each one you could buy a snack from my bag…You liked to be carried but I never minded, you were like a monkey clinging on, burying your face in my neck and playing with my hair…I still expected drama, was still waiting for trouble but it never came…he’s so good, he’s so easy, he’s no trouble…he’s an angel, he’s so lovely, so lovely…
The tickle test…where you would lie on the floor and I’d ask you where was more ticklish, under the arms, the knees, the belly, the ribs…you’d screech laughter and beg for more…Sleepovers with your sister, by now your best friend, your loyal comrade…Duvets and blankets on the bedroom floor and draped from chairs, midnight fasts, maltesers rolled through the banisters for you to catch and collect…
You are easy to distract, easy to talk around, easy to reason with, easy to manipulate…sometimes I have to tell you to stand up for yourself, to be mean back when your sisters try it on..,one day you said to me, I don’t know how to….And my heart ached for you, because you really don’t..and I see it in your face, you don’t understand when others are mean or cruel or push you away…you have a tendency to run off, to run away and be on your own…you try not to cry, and that’s even sadder to see, like you think you’re not allowed to…I see you when I am putting washing away, sat on your bed running your finger over the pages of the book you are trying to read, made more important by the fact your sister has allowed you to borrow it…you don’t see me because your thick blonde hair is over your eyes, and you are concentrating too much…you get upset when you get spellings wrong…you try your hardest at everything you do…I walk past your room and hear you playing schools and I think oh he’s so lovely, he is just so lovely….my dillydots, my dilly, my chubby cheeked boy and our jokes about how much we love each other…a billion, a million, a dillion! All the way to the moon and back, then double that, double whammy you say…and you have to get the last kiss, but I try to dive in one last time to steal it from you, but you don’t let me go…I have to get the last kiss you say…and for now my big boy, little brother, big brother, doe eyed cousin, one of a cheeky trio of friends since babes…you’ve still not changed, and you still slip your hand into mine and kiss me at the school gate, and I’ll never forget you walking into the room when you were about four, or five and exclaiming ‘this is all my life, and I love all my life.’ The sweetest thing from the sweetest boy…
Your gentle nature, the kindness that exudes from you, it will carry you through life and make you many friends…you always do for others like in the summer when your little cousin wanted to hold your hand down the lane, we knew you were embarrassed but you didn’t tug away, not once, even when the bigger kids surged ahead without you, you kept her little hand in yours…
I hope life is as kind to you as you deserve, I hope I never forget a single sunny thing about you, you are the sunshine in my eyes….
Gorgeous blog about a gorgeous-sounding little boy. Brilliant, Chantelle!
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Thank you for reading John!
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