Saturday mornings don’t mean lie ins anymore… the kids are up between 5 and 6 depending on (if they kept you up the previous 8 hours). We take a break from CBeebies and engage in some Channel 5 Milkshake with Paw Patrol and Blaze to accompany Rice Krispies, Weetabix and jam on toast
Once that is done it’s time to get ready to get out as Maya has ballet lessons at 9:30. This usually see’s mummy walking Maya down to the dance studio 10 minutes away however this Saturday is a little bit miserable and wet so myself and the boy get changed and jump in the car to take them down and drop Maya off for her 30-minute lesson.
Leaving Maya to it the three of us pull up a seat in one of the many tea room/coffee shops villages like Dunmow have to offer (not a Starbucks in sight). Rafael is already drawing people’s attention as he waves, smiles and chats jiberish in this cute but slightly mischievous boyish charm way he is developing. It’s soon time to pick up Maya so we leave the cafe. I decide to walk Raff back to the car while Lauren grabs Maya and has a chat with her teacher.
The boy began walking just before his 1st birthday. So armed in his air max’s and donning a green bomber jacket I let him walk away from the main road as we head to the car park. A stubborn streak has also begun to rear its head and he pushes my hand away. Mister independent wants to walk on his own. Ok then. He waddles along full of glee impressing himself. He stumbles, tumbles and pulls himself up and gets back on with it. You can see a pride in himself that is only matched but my own pride in him. I hold his hand for a bit and then let him go again. He falls again but this time he doesn’t jump straight back up. His head comes up and there are tears and a wail.
I pick him up and dust him off. The tears soon settle and he calms. All seems fine until I spot a trickle of red coming from his mouth. Truth be told a wave of panic and fear knocked my calm Ash persona for six. I have never had a problem with blood but seeing it like that on my boy… i can’t put it into words. The feeling lasted a moment and then Dad mode kicked in. Grabbing the wipes, tissues and his drinking water i got to work on cleaning the excess blood away. He thankfully wasn’t crying which was a huge reassurance he just let me get on with it. The bleeding stopped (and once again thankfully before his mum got back to us). It’s at this point you start half breathing again knowing he is alright. I say half breathing because now you start thinking of all those irrelevant thoughts that you couldn’t entertain whilst looking after him, beg i didn’t get blood on his jacket, i shouldn’t have let go of his hand, she’s never gonna let me out with him again!
There was no harm done he his teeth and jacket are all fine, plus his mum is still quite happy to take him out on my own. It’s the second point that has stuck with me. Should I have let him go on his own? Of course I should. I’m his Dad. If anyone is gonna have confidence in him to go forward and make mistakes it’s got to be me. Don’t get me wrong I will always be cautious and won’t let either of my children go into harms way. There is no better teacher then mistakes, you just hope they won’t make any mistakes too large that they can’t rectify. I won’t always be there to hold their hand but I hope i’ll be around for a fair few years to pick them up, dust them down and give them
a hug from their old man.